Guides for Guardians
by steamfan
Summary: What makes a Guide, a Guide?


Title: Guides for Guardians

Fandoms: The Sentinel, Magnificent Seven, Stargate SG1, The Invisible Man and The A-Team

Rating: PG13 for mature themes, mainly because the abuses committed by those at the 'Hanoi Hilton' are mentioned.

Disclaimer: I own nothing of the Sentinel, Magnificent Seven, Stargate SG1, Invisible Man or The A-Team. If I did the universe would certainly be more interesting.

A/N: A big thank you to Duchess who beta'd this story for me. She was great at pointing out the plot holes and the punctuation errors. Any remaining mistakes are mine and mine alone.

Dr. Blair Sandburg sat behind his large oak desk and examined the three folders that his secretary/research assistant/personal aid Shelly Franklin had left for him. He knew that he needed more than one person to fulfill those roles but things were still in the very early stages for his Sentinel and Guide Center. In fact it had only been two weeks since it had come into existence on paper with his purchase of the property it now sat on.

Even for him, these last two weeks had been exhausting with the discovery of two other Sentinel and Guide pairs, an unbonded female Sentinel, (and hadn't that been fun, NOT! Although Ray had told him that he thought he knew who Maggie Mackenzie's Guide was and she wasn't crazy, which had been a big help) a rape/murder case that had turned into the lynch pin for several major inroads on international poaching and other crime rings, teaching the Sentinel and Guide pairs, guiding them through their bondings and setting up the Center. Every night that he had managed to make it to his bed rather than simply falling over where he sat, (Jim usually put him to bed when he did so), he had thanked every deity that he could remember for Shelly.

Shelly Franklin had not only been one of the students that he had taught at Rainer University, she was also someone who was fully versed in his Sentinel research, having helped set up many of the tests that he ran on what he now knew were carriers of the Sentinel gene. If someone had the Sentinel gene but weren't Sentinels themselves the gene manifested as heightened senses, usually in one or two areas instead of all five. Shelly was also an experienced office manager having worked her way through school and she was also the daughter of a small construction business owner so she had grown up knowing her way around construction and renovation. Her father had hopes that she would one day take over for him, but she had confessed that she was far more interested in learning how to work with Sentinels, although her interest was more in the newly discovered Guide category.

Blair had given her permission to try and figure out just what made a person a Guide as he had more than enough on his hands as it was. He knew that sooner or later a Sentinel would come in without a Guide in tow and they would need to be prepared. It was too bad that there wasn't much, if any, research done on the subject that he could give her. She was going to be doing a lot of ground breaking in this field.

The top file had a note taped to the front reading 'NEEDS HELP NOW!' in bright red ink. The other two files had no such notes. Blair knew that Shelly wasn't given to exaggeration. He opened the file concerned, and began to read.

In the file were the stats on a Colonel Jonathan 'Jack' O'Neill. Also included were a letter from his CMO, a Doctor Janet Frasier and some medical information that seemed to indicate that O'Neill was now a Sentinel. O'Neill and his team had been subjected to an unethical scientific experiment by a quack scientist in a classified location. The letter assured Blair that the so called scientist was not a member of the US military, nor would the scientist in question be able to get her hands on any military personnel in the future.

From reading between the lines, Blair assumed that the scientist was probably dead. No one enjoyed being experimented on, not even those who volunteered for such things and anyone who went through the sorts of experiments that could result in a Sentinel coming on line was, in Blair's opinion, fully within their rights to take the life of anyone who would force them into those experiments. Blair might be a pacifist at heart, but after more than four years of working with the Cascade Police Department, he was well versed in the fact that sometimes you had to kill someone to stop them. Lash was one in particular who came to his mind.

The other three members of Colonel O'Neill's team had recovered with no further ill effects, but O'Neill was experiencing sensory spikes that nothing seemed to halt. The only correlation that Dr. Frasier had been able to find was that when Dr. Jackson, the team's civilian linguist, was with O'Neill the spikes seemed to be both less frequent and severe. She ended the letter with a plea for Doctor Sandburg to come to the Air Force Academy hospital where Colonel O'Neill was currently under her care.

Blair sighed and rubbed his eyes. There was no way he could travel halfway across the country right now. Heck, he doubted Jim would be able to leave Cascade! With Mackenzie and Fraser back where they belonged, Jim wasn't as stressed as he had been; which wasn't as bad as when Alex had been in Cascade, but with another Sentinel roaming around Cascade he still wasn't back to what Blair considered normal.

Vin Tanner and Ezra Standish, the Sentinel and Guide team from Denver, were still in town due to their teammates' injuries. Neither one could leave their friends and brothers in the hospital alone, even though Buck Wilmington was the only one who had been seriously injured out of the five other members of their team. Buck had somehow ended up with his arm in an animal trap, breaking the arm and leaving behind one very nasty infection. It was the infection that was keeping the man in the hospital, although he should be leaving soon. The main thing was that Cascade General was in the heart of downtown Cascade and not on the outskirts of the city where Jim could ignore the presence of another Sentinel, even one that he liked. He definitely couldn't leave his territory with another Sentinel hanging around and Blair couldn't go without Jim.

That was another reason why he was letting Shelly research into what made a Guide, a Guide. There were too many chances for an unbonded Sentinel to take one look at him and go 'MINE!' complete with caveman throwing the Guide over the shoulder and running away with him. 'Ok, so that's an exaggeration,' he thought to himself but he really wasn't ready to face an unknown Sentinel without Jim as backup. He could be excused for being jittery on the subject. He had died less than seven months ago due to refusing to go along with just that scenario. He looked through the file one more time and found Dr. Frasier's contact information. He would have to tell her what was necessary to get Colonel O'Neill stable so that he could come out to Cascade.

On the other hand, Shelly could go, if she could find someone to take her place for a couple of days. That would also let him try out someone for one of the many positions she was filling, maybe even more than one, thus taking some of the pressure off of Shelly. It would also let Shelly do some of her own research into Guides. He really hoped that she could figure out what made a person a Guide. It would make his life so much easier if there was a definite test or something that could prove someone was a Guide before they had a Sentinel already. He would much rather help Sentinels by playing matchmaker than trying to help agitated Sentinels regain control while hiding behind his own. He had been so lucky so far.

Fraser and Vin both had previous training that meant they already knew that he was off limits and they had already had Guides, even though they hadn't been bonded. They hadn't been in distress either, which had made what little training and work he had done with them far easier than working with Colonel O'Neill would be. Decision made, Blair turned to the two other files.

The second file was something that he had expected would show up on his desk sooner or later. He would have preferred later but he wasn't that naive. It was from a Doctor Richter, a psychiatrist at the LA County VA hospital in California. He had a patient that had been incarcerated there during the last year of the Vietnam War. Captain H. M. Murdock had spoken of the classic signs of being a Sentinel in every first session with every psychiatrist that had ever been assigned to work with him. Once it became obvious that the shrink couldn't help with the Sentinel issues, the Captain had gone on to various wild and imaginative outbursts of insanity. And yet, he still returned to trying to get someone, anyone with a degree to tell him how to deal with his senses. The general consensus among his doctors was that either Murdock really was crazy or he was a genius at faking it. They couldn't tell.

While Blair had no real way to tell either, (he wasn't a shrink of any sort, he only had a minor in psychiatry,) he did think that Murdock was more likely to still be at the hospital because it was a very stable place rather than because he was crazy. According to the file, Murdock regularly took walkabouts and returned when he was ready to do so. Blair really didn't think that a crazy man could regularly just walk out of a mental hospital when the mood suited him, no matter how smart he was. He had seen the security measures at Starkville. Murdock had to have at least some amount of control over his senses. Perhaps one of his friends on the outside was a Guide? It was all speculation, but at least he could send the doctor a primer on how a Sentinel could learn to control their senses. Even if it wasn't obvious whether or not Murdock was crazy, it was obvious that he was still looking for answers on what he was and if the hospital was where he wanted to be, then Blair wasn't going to be the one to have him kicked out.

The last file was also from a psychiatrist, but was a lot more serious. Robert Hobbes was a former FBI agent who had been diagnosed with paranoia but the symptoms, aside from the paranoia and Blair wasn't sure people WEREN'T out to get the man, were that of a Sentinel just coming on line. The man had been prescribed drugs that were apparently taking care of the problem, but were also killing Hobbes slowly. Dr. Beekum was terrified of the consequences should Hobbs prove to be a Sentinel. The only way that the man would make it out of the situation with his medical license intact was to arrange a consult immediately. That Blair was all too happy to agree to.

Sentinels and drugs did not mix well in most cases. He had already gone over Vin's medical records with his team mate Nathan, who was a paramedic and he had seen that Vin was just as sensitive to drugs as Jim was, if not more so in some cases. Fraser actually avoided most medications by making his own home remedies and avoiding the hospital as much as physically possible. He had said that he'd had trouble the one time that he had been shot in the back, but the difficulties had diminished once he had stopped taking the drugs issued to him at the hospital. Blair suspected that Fraser had stopped a lot sooner than the doctors knew and that he had refused to take more than the absolute minimum then. That fit with what he knew of the man. Now that he had figured out what he was going to do with each file, it was time to call in Shelly.

Chapter 2

Captain H. M. Murdock listened to the quiet sounds of the graveyard shift of the LA County VA Hospital's psychiatric ward nurses and orderlies going about their business. When he could no longer hear anyone in the hallway outside his room he swiftly picked the lock, not that it was easy to get to the lock, but B.A. had made a few invisible 'adjustments' the first year he had been committed here. Of the three men he had served with in Vietnam, B.A. was the man who could build, rebuild or turn some piece of mechanical nothing into exactly what was needed. As to why he needed to be able to get out of the secure room that he had lived in for nearly 30 years, well that unfortunately was because he and his teammates had spent 25 years on the run from the military police for a crime they didn't commit.

During the last year of the Vietnam War Colonel Brissett, US Army, had ordered that the Special Forces Team that Murdock flew choppers for to rob the Bank of Hanoi, the idea being to deny funds to the Vietcong. Colonel John 'Hannibal' Smith, Lieutenant Templeton 'Faceman' Peck and Sergeant Bosco B.A. 'Bad Attitude' Baracus had robbed the bank while Murdock had provided air support. It was a quick mission, one that had only taken twelve hours to complete but that night, before Murdock flew the team back to base; the base was attacked by the Vietcong. They reported back only to find Colonel Brissett dead from what they believed was the artillery barrage and no one could find the written orders that the Colonel had shown them. Without those orders showing that what they had done was sanctioned, they were immediately arrested and sent back to the States for trial.

Once back in the States, Hannibal, Face and B.A. had decided that they weren't going to go to prison for something that they hadn't done. They hadn't committed treason. They had been following orders and if the US Military couldn't accept that, then they would just have to escape as a protest. That wasn't an option for Murdock. He had known, as had the rest of his team, that he would not be able to survive in the outside world on the run and looking over his shoulder all the time. He had been prone to sensory hallucinations for almost a year before they were arrested. A man on the run from the law had to be very tuned in to his surroundings and aware of who he could trust or he would end up back in jail. A man with mental illness wouldn't be able to do that. So with his team's blessing he had done what he had to do and convinced the JAG of the truth, that he was crazy.

Of course Murdock had been forced to go further than the simple hallucinations that he had, making up all sorts of things. Fortunately for him he had made a game for a long time now of teasing others on base by pretending to be crazy, mostly because it worked B.A. into a tizzy. B.A. already thought that Murdock was a bit off simply because he was a pilot and willingly flew into hot zones. B.A. had a terrible phobia about flying and although Murdock loved to tease him, that was one subject that would never, well mostly never, be one that he would use against the man who had become a brother to him. It hadn't taken any time at all for the JAG lawyer to send him to a shrink or for the shrink to send him to the psych ward.

Hannibal, Face and B.A. had turned to soldier of fortune work to survive but they hadn't just taken any job that came their way. No, the A Team, as they called themselves, only took the jobs that they wanted to and that meant that they took a lot of clients who were in trouble and couldn't get anyone else to help them. It also meant that they weren't the best paid mercenaries in the world but as Hannibal had pointed out, at least they could look themselves in the mirror. Seeing as how their only defense against the charges against them was their honor, it was a very important consideration.

So for the next 25 years Murdock had lived in the mental ward while his teammates had lived on the run from the MPs. A Colonel Decker was the man in charge of retrieving the men and bringing them back to prison. He knew, although he had never been able to prove, that Murdock was in touch with the A Team. This was in spite of the fact that Murdock routinely escaped and went on missions even when a pilot wasn't needed. Running circles around Decker had never been easy, but Murdock had to admit it had been fun. It was the one thing that he had missed once they had been cleared of all charges a few years back.

That had happened thanks to a wonderful young woman named April Gragg. April was the daughter of a fellow officer that had been serving at their base in Vietnam during their last six months there. Major Gragg hadn't been the nicest fellow Murdock had ever known but he had been shocked to find out that Gragg had been heavily involved in the black market. Most of the men did a little trading on the side, Faceman had done that sort of thing for the team and he'd been extremely good at it, but Gragg hadn't been just doing a little trading. He had done everything from selling their ammunition and other supplies to selling Vietnamese children as slave labor for the drug trade. Gragg was also the reason that he and his team had been arrested.

It turned out that Major Gragg had been called on the carpet by Colonel Brissett the night of the attack about his black marketeering. Gragg had shot the Colonel, killing him instantly, and swiped the only two files on the Colonel's desk just before the Vietcong attacked. One of those files had been about Gragg's activities; the other held the orders for the bank job. Gragg had hidden the two files in his footlocker before he too was killed, although the Vietcong were responsible for his death. No one had ever realized that Colonel Brissett hadn't died as a result of the attack.

Major Gragg's footlocker was sent home to his widow who had never opened it, wanting to leave those memories behind. However, Mrs. Gragg had kept the locker for her daughter April because she knew that one day April would want to know who her father had been. April inherited the locker upon her mother's death some 23 years later. When she had opened the locker she had found the files. Reading over the information in them she had been horrified, not only by her biological father's actions, but by the fact that he had taken the other file as well.

Growing up in LA, she knew the stories of the A Team just as well as anyone. They were modern day Robin Hoods, forced to be mercenaries because her father had taken their orders and hidden them. They had been called traitors and murderers and worse, although no one could point to a single case of true criminal activity since their return from Vietnam, a war that most of the nation hadn't agreed with in the first place. April hadn't been able to be a part of Major Gragg's actions. She had gone straight to the JAG office nearest to her and with the help of one of the lawyers there, she had gotten the A Team cleared of all charges.

Murdock shook his head to get his mind off the past and remind himself that he had a mission to complete tonight before easing the door open and slipped out of his room. He checked the hallways again before heading for Dr. Richter's, his psychiatrist, office. There was something new going on and he had to know what it was. He couldn't ignore the way his instincts were screaming. Something new going on usually meant trouble for the team, and 25 years avoiding the prison sentence waiting for him had honed his instincts just as well as they had his teammates'. Fortunately he was in position to give them a head's up warning if needed.

Picking the lock on the doctor's office door was extremely simple for a man who had done it for more than two and a half decades. Murdock slipped inside and went to the computer, turning it on and hacking into his files with accustomed efficiency. 'Just because I'm crazy doesn't mean I'm d u m, dumb' he thought amused. He had spent a lot of time over the years reading, educating himself on a variety of subjects and keeping up with the latest in technology. He'd had a lot of fun learning how to hack computers, especially as they gave him an edge on making sure that he stayed in the hospital.

Murdock was happy that he and the others no longer had a prison sentence hanging over their heads, but he had no wish to leave the hospital. That was why he still hacked into his files to make sure that his doctor wasn't planning on releasing him any time soon. That had unexpectedly happened once before, and the possibility still gave him chills. This had become one of his very few safe places. He knew every person here, how they were likely to react under almost any circumstances, (while the men here were mentally ill, he wasn't locked up with the truly dangerous ones) and most importantly, everything was regulated. From when meals were served, when and what medications were given, what was used to clean to when the doctors had their counseling sessions, everything was as regulated as it was possible to be. For some reason that made his sensory hallucinations less likely to pop up on him, all but Billy that was.

Billy wasn't like his other hallucinations. When Murdock usually saw things, it was giant bugs or thinking that he could see things that were impossibly far away. Billy was simply an invisible dog. He never changed in size or did anything that showed he wasn't real. In fact, if it wasn't for the fact that B.A. hadn't been able to see him the first time Billy had shown up, Murdock would never have known that he wasn't real. He wasn't the type of person to make up a Black Russian Terrier. Heck, he hadn't even known what a Black Russian Terrier was until he'd met Billy. He would have gone with a Jack Russell Terrier or maybe an Olde English Sheepdog as an invisible pet, depending upon what he needed the hallucination for.

Murdock smiled as he remembered reading information on care and feeding of Black Russian Terriers. He had asked Dr. Richter to get him some books on the subject. The doctor had willingly gone along with the harmless request, and Murdock could still see the two books that Dr. Richter had gotten him on the breed on the doctor's bookshelves. Dr. Richter was a great guy who only wanted to help Murdock get better, but the man could do nothing for the hallucinations that Murdock did suffer from. He just tried to treat the fake symptoms that Murdock made up to stay in the hospital. Only now, Murdock had just the slightest, tiniest, doubt that they were hallucinations.

Earlier today the doctors had done a hearing test on him. Murdock hadn't been sure why. Although he was given a physical every few months, a hearing test had never been on the agenda before. It was the same old boring hearing test that had been done when he was a kid but the looks that the doctor had shot him when he didn't think that Murdock could see him had sent Murdock's instincts into overdrive. It had been all that he could do to maintain his customary cheerfulness. He worked hard at being one of the harmless crazy men that lived here. He wouldn't let the doctors see the warrior that lurked beneath, the one who had at one time literally killed a man with his bare hands to save the life of his teammate Face. He had to find out what that test said.

Once he had found the test results, there was no longer any denying the facts. He had scored so far above and below normal that he had to be tuning in to things that other people, normal people, could not because he was so sensitive, not because they didn't exist, and if just one of his senses were heightened, as the hearing test had shown, then they all were because they all gave him the same sort of trouble.

Murdock ran a quick search on heightened or hyperactive senses and came up with Dr. Sandburg's Sentinel discovery. He spent the next hour learning all he could about the doctor and Sentinels in general. When he was done he came to the conclusion there was only one thing that he could do. He had to leave the hospital and travel to Cascade, WA so that he could get the help that Dr. Sandburg could get him. If he got that help, then maybe, at long last, he could actually leave the hospital without the trouble that kept him there. Murdock reached for the phone on the desk and called Face. "Hey Face, I didn't wake you did I?"

Templeton Peck, like the rest of his team, was far more comfortable with his codename than he was his given one. He also was extremely comfortable dealing with Murdock's insanity. This wasn't the first time Murdock had called him in the wee hours of the morning. He leaned back against the headboard of his bed and settled in for a long session with an upset and needy friend. "Nope, although if you had waited much longer I would have been," he said. "I don't do as much partying as I used to these days." He knew from experience that as long as he kept himself calm, Murdock would start to calm down as well.

"I need you to pick me up as soon as possible and bring Hannibal and B.A. too. We need to head to Washington State," Murdock said, rubbing his face. It was late and he was tired. He had been up for almost two days thanks to his doctors doing a detox on him. He hated taking the meds they gave him and most of the time he didn't, but what little he did take regularly wasn't fun coming off of. It had a tendency to make him wide awake and jittery for a few days before he crashed. It was a good thing that B.A's van had a place where he could grab some sleep in the back. He'd be a bit scrunched but it wouldn't be the first time he'd crashed there.

"Murdock, what's going on?" Face asked as he sat up straight in bed. He hadn't heard that sort of tone in Murdock's voice since he had sat them down and admitted that he was hearing and seeing things that weren't there. That was shortly after they had escaped from the POW camp. Face scrambled out of bed and grabbed for the first pair of pants that came to hand. This was serious. Even when Murdock was having trouble with his hallucinations he tried to crack jokes but there was not a hint of one in his voice now.

"I only want to say this once so I'll tell you when you guys get here," Murdock said. He hung up and then began gathering his evidence, including a copy of the email from Dr. Sandburg's Sentinel and Guide Center.

Chapter Three

Sergeant Davis held up a sign with the name Shelly Franklin on it while he waited at terminal 12 of the Colorado Springs Airport. This wasn't the first time he'd been sent to pick up a visiting dignitary or specialist. As one of the few people who knew everything that went on at the SGC, (Star Gate Command) he'd been sent to evaluate people for General Hammond before. Davis wasn't sure what to expect from this latest one. All he knew was that Miss Franklin was an A.B.D., (All But Dissertation) Anthropologist and an assistant to Dr. Sandburg, the Sentinel expert. She was coming here to evaluate Colonel O'Neill. Before Davis could ruminate on Colonel O'Neill's situation, a younger woman approached him with her hand out. "I'm Shelly Franklin and you are?" she asked

"Sergeant Walter Davis, ma'am," he said. Davis knew academics. He'd watched both men and women from various fields interact with each other and military personnel for years. This one came across as competent and sure of herself without the enormous ego that was the reason many other top notch academics were passed over for the SGC. There were a few glaring exceptions to that rule of thumb, the most notable being Dr. McKay, but they really were the geniuses they proclaimed themselves to be. "I'm here to take you to the Air Force Hospital where Colonel O'Neill is staying."

"Good, is he stable and is Dr. Jackson around?" They headed for the staff car, not bothering to stop in baggage.

"Yes, as it seems to be the only thing helping the Colonel, Dr. Jackson hasn't left his side."

"Good, with any luck Dr. Jackson is a Guide. We don't have any unattached Guides at the moment." Davis had no idea what a Guide was but he was used to not knowing the specific details. When the academics got going, usually the only ones who could follow were their fellow academics. He reached for the back door of the staff car, but Miss Franklin was already hopping in the front. Good, it looked like Miss Franklin was going to be more Doctor Jackson's sort than Dr. Granger's.

88888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888

The hospital room was filled with people, or at least it looked that way to Shelly. There were two very large guards in the doorway and four people next to the hospital bed. The very petite Air Force Major was wearing a lab coat and had a name tag that said Doctor Frasier. The other three, a large black man, a tall blond woman and a tall young white man, were wearing fatigues of some type but had no name tags. "Hello everyone, I'm Shelly Franklin." Shelly knew better than to speak loudly. Right now the Colonel wouldn't be able to handle loud noises. "I'm here to assess your sensitivity and to help you manage it, Colonel O'Neill."

"And how are you going to do that?" the Colonel snarked. "Wave a magic wand?"

"Nope, the tests are easy and will pinpoint how strong your senses are, especially in relation to each other. At that point I can teach you how to use a biofeedback technique Dr. Sandburg calls dials." As Shelly spoke she was opening her carry on case. She was also very careful not to get between Colonel O'Neill and anyone else. If Dr. Jackson was his Guide, then the last thing she wanted was to trigger a BP response, from either of them.

"Biofeedback? Dials?"

Shelly didn't have to see the skeptical look on the Colonel's face. "You are a pilot, are you not sir?"

"Yes," he drawled suspiciously. She wasn't surprised. This guy was obviously career military, and a field officer from the file she'd been given. There was also the fact that the reason he was here because of a mad scientist. She'd have been shocked if he hadn't been suspicious.

"Easy Jack, Blair wouldn't send us someone that doesn't know what she's doing," the younger white man patted the Colonel on the arm.

"You sure about this guy Danny?" he asked, tired.

"Blair and I are friends, Jack. We were roommates for a year in college. Both of us were much younger than the rest of our respective colleagues, so we ended up spending a lot of time together. We've kept in touch through email since then."

Shelly noticed that Danny, presumably Dr. Jackson, was keeping in physical contact with the Colonel. He was also speaking in the rhythmic tones that she had tentively identified as being important. She had heard that pattern before both from Blair and Ray Kowalski when their Sentinels were in distress. She slipped out a voice recorder and turned it on so that she could capture a sample. She set it on the rolling table along with a series of small vials. "Colonel, you already know and work with biofeedback, you just don't know it by that name. What I'm talking about is visualization, knowing deep down in your gut that if you do this, this will happen."

At that the Colonel nodded. He did know what she was talking about, all pilots did. They had to be able to visualize multiple things at once in order to fly. "The good news is that all Sentinels can use that to control the amount of input that they process on a conscious level. Everyone receives constant sensory input, but what people pay attention to varies from person to person for all sorts of different reasons. What catches your attention is going to be different from someone else for instance."

The tests were simple and the Colonel passed them easily. He was definitely a Sentinel with sight being his strongest sense. "Ok Colonel, I want you to picture a control panel that you are familiar with, perhaps something like your favorite jet or plane." Shelly walked the Colonel through the process, not really needing to know what his particular visualization was. He had a little difficulty with it, mostly being more tentative than the other Sentinels she had seen Blair working with, but then all three of them had, had previous training where the Colonel had not. If she recalled correctly, Ellison had been more than a little reluctant to go along with the technique at first as well. "All right Colonel, you are cleared for travel. I recommend that you go to Cascade as soon as possible. Right now we're still setting up the Sentinel and Guide Center, but we do have accommodations for up to six people."

"That's it?" the Colonel asked shocked. Shelly could see that everyone else was just as shocked as he was.

"Yep, I told you it would be easy. As long as you keep checking to make sure that your dials are where they're supposed to be you should be fine," she grinned. "Most of learning how to control your senses is just telling your conscious mind what you already know instinctively. I wouldn't travel by air until you get used to using the dials technique, mostly because air travel can be stressful, but that's up to you. What you'll learn at the Center has more to do with learning how to adjust to how sensitive your senses are now, different techniques that you can use in your work and at home, how to avoid spikes and zones, different chemical reactions to watch for, that sort of thing. Think of it like a training center on how to live with Sentinel abilities."

"What about the Guide part of the Center's title?" the blond woman asked.

"A Sentinel needs a baseline for all of his senses; something that remains relatively stable at all times, or at least is so familiar it might as well be the Rock of Gibraltar. A Guide is a person who provides that baseline. Of course, that's the least of what a Guide is and does." Shelly began to warm to the subject. "Sentinels and Guides are partners in guarding their tribes. A Guide's traditional job is to guard the guardian of their tribe, the Sentinel, while the Sentinel guards against outside threats to the tribe. Today we classify the tribes being guarded as whatever and whoever the pairing chooses. So far, that has meant a city. Each of the four Sentinels so far identified have been police officers, each covering a different city or town. What is extremely interesting is that two of those Sentinels are a brother and sister pair. Although they both grew up in the same area, their individual territories are thousands of miles apart in two different countries."

"I got it, I got it, I need to team up with one of these Guides," the Colonel interrupted. "Thanks Carter," he muttered. "Get her started on the geek babble."

Shelly smiled. She was used to being interrupted. Blair had always said that it was a hazard of hanging around cops, but she was sure that these guys fit the bill as well. "I'm pretty sure that being a Guide is as genetic as being a Sentinel. That is my primary job, finding out what makes a Guide a Guide and learning how to identify them."

"How do we identify a Guide for Jack?" Danny asked.

"Well, first of all, I'm assuming that you are Dr. Jackson?" Shelly asked.

Dr. Jackson blushed as the Colonel snickered. "Yes, I'm Daniel Jackson. This is Dr. Janet Frasier, our CMO and Major Samantha Carter and Murray, the other members of our team."

"Well, at the moment our tentative theory is that team members would be able to act as secondary Guides once they get some training on what to watch out for. However, what a secondary Guide has to do through brute force, a primary Guide can do through finesse. Dr. Jackson, how did you come to start talking to Colonel O'Neill in that tone of voice, was it instinctive or did you have to work at figuring out what would work for him?" Shelly asked.

"Ah, I'm not sure," Dr. Jackson said, a bit confused.

"An instinctive reaction, I noticed it as well ShellyFranklin," Murray spoke up.

Shelly nodded. "I've noticed that pattern before from primary Guides. Dr. Jackson, would you be willing to be the subject of some tests? I'm convinced that there has to be a physical clue to who is a Guide the same way we can tell who is a Sentinel. I just have to compare enough Guides to figure it out."

"If it will help," Dr. Jackson said. "I'd be glad to."

Chapter Four

Fifteen year old Laneesha hadn't heard the phone ring in the middle of the night in years. She wished she hadn't heard it now. The phone ringing in the middle of the night meant that something was wrong and her father would have to leave, maybe even take on one of his 'extra' jobs with his brothers. It was either that, or one of them was in trouble. Laneesha Baracas was the oldest daughter of Bosco Baracas, a member of the infamous A Team. 'A mercenary team that was supposed to be retired,' she reminded herself. It was those men that he called his brothers. The last time someone had called him in the middle of the night her Grandpa Hannibal had been really sick and they had all bundled into her dad's van to go to Bad Rock where Grandpa Hannibal lived with Grandma Maggie.

She decided that she wasn't going to wait until someone came to get her this time. She got up and got dressed and went down to the living room. Her house was a small one, not far from the worst part of the city, well relatively for LA anyway, but it was well kept and maintained thanks to her family. The neighborhood wasn't as bad off as it could have been either. When her parents had first moved in it was only a step above the slum areas but her parents and her father's brothers had worked hard to make it a better place. Now it was a safe neighborhood for low income families.

She found her father sitting on the couch putting his boots on. He had mellowed somewhat from what she had remembered as a small girl. He only wore a few gold chains around his neck now and the earrings were long gone. He still wore his hair in a Mohawk, but it was cut close to his head now instead of standing up straight. She remembered it looking like it was taller than she was when she was really small. On the other hand, even at fifty something he could still take on the punks that wanted to move in here and take over; all without breaking a sweat in a fist fight.

"Girl, whatchyou doin' up?" he whispered harshly. "You got school in the mornin'. Get back ta bed."

"I heard the phone. What's wrong?" she whispered back. She didn't want to wake her own brothers if she didn't have to.

"We're not sure," her mom whispered back and drew her into a hug. "Something's wrong with your Uncle Murdock. He called for help and asked to be taken to Washington State. We haven't heard anything from the doctors, so this all may just be in your uncle's head. We just don't know yet."

"I'll call in the morning and let everybody know what's up with the crazy fool," her dad promised.

Laneesha wasn't fooled by her father's put down. She knew that he loved Captain Murdock like he was a flesh and blood brother but they were the kind of brothers who teased the crud out of each other, much like her own little brothers did. She loved listening to her uncle tease her father. He'd put on this crazy act and drive her dad up the wall with it until her dad would shout something about doing something to the crazy fool. She knew her uncle wasn't really crazy. He just acted that way but her mother had never been sure.

"If he needs help then Dad should go," she said firmly. "Let me know if I can do anything."

"Ah he don't need no help," her dad brushed off her concern, not wanting her to see his own. "He's probably just getting too closed in. Spend too much time in one room and it sends him back to 'Nam. Face'll get him out and he'll see we're all ok and the crazy fool will be just fine. At least he don't want ta go somewhere we'd have ta fly." B.A. shuddered. Even after more than thirty years he still couldn't get into a plane without being unconscious, choppers were worse. They gave him the worst sort of flashbacks.

"I gotta go pick up Face. I'll talk ta ya in the morning." B.A. gave both of his ladies a hug before leaving his house. He didn't want them to see how worried he was. Face hadn't given him much information, but the Lieutenant had told him about how Murdock had sounded. That was the real reason he wasn't cursing up a storm about the crazy man dragging him out of his bed in the middle of the night. He just hoped that Murdock wasn't sliding back down into the insanity that had gripped him when they'd gotten out of the 'Hilton'. No matter what his wife thought, Murdock was much saner than he used to be. He had no wish to see his brother and friend go back over the edge screaming that his clothes were attacking him or worse, into catatonia.

888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888

Murdock didn't want Face to have to break him out; mostly because of the time it would waste. So he simply walked out of the VA, easily avoiding the staff and getting through security. He usually took the loud and obvious route yelling and running with orderlies and security chasing him, but that was because it was both fun and it kept security here from being upgraded to keep him in. That was not what was needed now. Right now he needed a peaceful and quiet exit, saving time and his reserves. He was coming down and it wouldn't be long before he crashed.

He was waiting beside the building when the black van with red racing stripe pulled up in the front parking lot. It had barely slowed down when the side door opened and he jumped in. The van continued on without stopping. "Murdock?" Face asked a hundred different questions with the single name as he slid the side door closed.

"When we pick up the Colonel and the Doc," he said quietly, leaning his head back into the corner between his seat and the van's wall. The quiet sounds of the van soothed him, as did the scents and sounds of his brothers. The leather seat had softened and molded itself to fit him perfectly, which wasn't surprising as he was the one who sat most often right behind B.A. who always drove. This was his second safe spot, which was ironic seeing as how a lot of the time he had spent here was literally spent running from the MPs. "I don't want to have to explain this more than once and Maggie will need to see the test results."

B.A. just grunted as Face nodded. They knew enough to wait until Hannibal and Maggie were picked up. Murdock wouldn't say anything if he didn't want to. Their stay at the 'Hilton' had proven that. Murdock had babbled at the VC in the camp, going on and on but in reality saying nothing of importance. Face watched openly and B.A. snuck glances in the rearview mirror as Murdock settled into his seat, almost wrapping himself around a file folder filled with papers.

888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888

Hannibal and Maggie were waiting on the porch of their house when B.A. pulled up in his van. The van was old now but it was still in pristine condition. There was no sign of the years it had spent running from the MP's and the law. Seeing it always gave Hannibal a warm feeling. No matter what the team was still as solid now as it was when they left 'Nam. The minute the van stopped he was opening the side door and helping Maggie into the back.

Maggie had her medical bag and her copy of Murdock's medical file. She would reread it along with the additions that Hannibal had told only to her piece by piece over the last few years, things that should have been told to his doctors at the VA but there was no mention of them in the file. Hannibal knew why those things weren't there. The things that had happened to the rest of the team in the 'Hilton' were bad, bad enough that it had sent men into death and insanity in equal measure, but the VC always reserved the worst for the pilots.

Murdock had been betrayed by one of their own in that place. Hannibal hated thinking about it but he had known that Murdock would never talk about it to anyone and there had to be a doctor somewhere who knew what had happened to his man, a doctor who cared. That the doctor who had chosen to help them also eventually became his wife was, in this case, secondary. What mattered right now was Murdock. If the shrinks couldn't help him, there was a good chance that Maggie could.

As Maggie got into the van, Murdock moved to the floor, slightly behind the two back seats, giving up his seat for the doctor. He had his back up against the raised platform where he planned to crash as soon as they got on the road and he could see Billy sleeping on Face's feet. He really wished he knew what was up with the invisible dog. Why did he keep seeing him?

Hannibal slowly levered himself into the front passenger seat, dealing easily with the gimpy leg and cane that had forced his retirement. He hated the fact that he could no longer keep up with the active lifestyle that had once ruled his life but he was glad that his men had stood by him. Their loyalty was something that he never took for granted and was in turn, something that he gave back freely.

The front passenger seat had been modified so that it was easier for him to turn it around, something that B.A. had done without being asked and that no one had ever mentioned. "Ok kid, let's have it," Hannibal said as he pulled out one of his cigars. He no longer smoked, being married to Maggie had changed that habit, but he still fiddled with them. As long as he wasn't smoking, Maggie held her peace on the subject of the evils of tobacco.

Murdock took the file that he had been clutching to his chest and handed it to Maggie. "I was given a hearing test. The results are there in the file. From what it shows and from what I managed to come up with from hacking Doc Richter's computer, I'm a Sentinel. That means that all of my senses are heightened. All of my hallucinations of the sensory sort aren't hallucinations at all, they're just my senses spiking out of control. Don't ask me why I see Billy, I have no idea but if the only thing that's wrong with me is seeing an invisible dog," he shrugged. He had been in the hospital for so long he had no idea what the ramifications would be. "I need to go see Dr. Sandburg. He's got a Sentinel and Guide Center in Cascade, Washington."

"I got the map," B.A. volunteered, turning back around to face the steering wheel. "I know where we're goin'."

"We're packed, why don't you get some rest Captain?" Hannibal asked softly. Murdock nodded and crawled onto the platform. He could leave the rest in the hands of his team and family. B.A. started the van back up and headed out for the highway.

Chapter 5

"There are two Sentinels under psychiatric care?" Jim asked. He was sitting next to Blair's chair, looking over the files on Blair's desk. It was almost an eerie reversal of their working arrangement down at the station. He had come out to the Center to have lunch with his Guide. At the moment his Captain, Simon Banks, had him chained behind his desk working on the mountains of paperwork from the smuggling ring busts earlier this month and Blair was up to his neck in getting things set up here. The idea of crazy Sentinels coming here sent shivers of dread down his spine.

"It's not that surprising Jim. Up until the information of Sentinels got out, anyone who saw a Sentinel coming on line would believe that the Sentinel was experiencing a psychotic break. A classic symptom of a mental break down is hearing voices after all." Blair took off his glasses and sighed, leaning back in his chair. "Both of these men have been convinced for years that they're mentally ill, and considering what Captain Murdock went through as a Vietnam War vet, I'm not surprised at all.

"Agent Hobbes is still on active duty of some sort, but the medication he's taking is killing him quite literally. Hobbes' doctor is bringing him and his partner up today. They should be here later this afternoon. If he is a Sentinel, then we can take him off of those drugs permanently. I don't know about the rest of their symptoms, but from what I've read in the files I have a few doubts that Hobbes is crazy. His doctor says he's paranoid, but as we are well aware that doesn't mean that someone wasn't or isn't after him."

"He's a federal agent?" Jim asked, beginning to settle down.

Blair nodded. "He's ex-FBI. His so called break down happened in the middle of a case, which is also why I'm doubtful of his diagnosis. We've dealt with enough dirty cops and feds to know that it is always a possibility. From what I've read, when he accused fellow agents of being out to get him everyone just shrugged and said he was crazy, then his boss sent him to the shrink and fired him. He works for Fish and Game now."

"What about Captain Murdock?" Jim asked.

"He's the one that I really have no idea about and neither do any of his doctors. He's either crazy or very, very good at pretending he is."

"You are not meeting with either of them by yourself Chief." Jim was putting his foot down. His Guide was not going to put himself in that particular position ever again.

Blair snorted. He wasn't that stupid. "I'm making it standard procedure. I don't go anywhere near an unbonded Sentinel without you, especially one that might be crazy."

Jim nodded in agreement. "Personally I think that it should be considered polite among pairs that no Sentinel handles another Sentinel's Guide in any way unless it's to save that Guide's life. You're all trouble magnets."

Blair tossed Jim a disgusted look. "We are not; Ray never had any trouble at all until he started working with Frasier. I'm convinced that it's the universe's way of making sure that the bad guys are taken care of before they can harm the tribe. Anyway I'm thinking that it might be a good idea to have it go the other way too. I've felt myself getting really uptight anytime another Guide gets near you. If we can work out some type of etiquette rules we might be able to avoid some problems."

Jim smiled. "Talk to Tanner, I think that he probably already had some rules taught to him by that old Shaman. He may not remember too many of them but you did notice how quickly Frasier got his group out of Cascade? I wasn't the one who mentioned territories and pheromone responses. That was Ezra."

"I've got your lunches Professor!" A young woman with dark brown hair, (aside from the different colored streaked braids) came into the office bearing a loaded tray. "Homemade lasagna, salad, fresh corn on the cob and sun tea for you and a large Coke for Sentinel Ellison. Emma wants to know if it passes inspection to put on the menu. It's a family recipe and she made sure to get all organic ingredients. I got the list of where she did her shopping and everything she bought. I'm setting up a file on local businesses that are Sentinel friendly here in Cascade as well as organizing lists of brands that are ok and those that shouldn't be touched with a ten foot pole. I figured I'd put that up on the website, at least those brands that are national."

Blair grinned at Jim's stunned expression at the rapid fire delivery. "Jim Ellison, this is Holly Whitaker. She's both my new receptionist and our computer programmer. JD's been giving her some help in getting things set up here; security, medical programs, bills, and all sorts of data bases. Emma Crystal is our new cook."

"Nice to meet you, Miss Whitaker."

"It's a pleasure to meet you sir, and if there's anything I can do for you, please let me know," Holly said before bouncing out.

"How old is she, Chief; fifteen?" Jim asked as he pulled one of the plates over to him. "She bounces more than you ever did."

"Very funny man," Blair said as he picked up his own lunch. "She's nineteen and a student over at Rainier. Where Shelly found her I have no idea but she's really good. In just two days she's managed to get all of my research organized, get the phone system and computer lines set up, have a filing system for our new Sentinel's information started and worked with JD as I said."

"Does she sleep?" Jim asked amazed. "That's a lot of work for just two days."

"Not really, the computer work and my research were the hard parts and my research took most of that time. The computer work is ongoing, the phone and computer lines were mostly supervising the workers and the filing system took all of fifteen minutes. We only have four identified Sentinels after all."

Jim nodded. "This is a keeper," he said, pointing at the lasagna. "It's not too spicy or too bland for that matter, and has lots of different textures that go well together. There isn't anything to zone on and it tastes great."

Blair nodded. "Emma's a great cook. She doesn't mind working with all organics and doesn't mind keeping her menu to staples rather than experimenting with exotics. She understands that everything we're going to be doing here has to take into consideration that some of the Sentinels we're going to be working with are either just coming on line and have no control or are going to be barely stable in their control. Soothing is what I'm looking for here."

"Just like Mom used to make, huh?" Jim grinned. Blair nodded back as he dug into his salad. "Good idea, good homemade style rather than institutional cafeteria style will help settle people faster. How soon do you think Hobbes and his people are going to get here? I'll tell Simon we've got more incoming and I need the afternoon off, not that I'm doing more than just crossing t's and dotting i's right now."

"Few hours," Blair mumbled.

888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888

Washington State, near the Canadian border was a long way from LA, California, especially when Darien Fawkes had to deal with a twitchy partner coming down off of the drugs that his shrink fed him on a daily basis. Not that he was a federal agent or any type of cop, but Bobby's doctor didn't have to know the truth about that. The man didn't have enough clearance to find out why Darien was partners with his patient.

Actually, Darien often wondered how the short, sweating and nervous psychiatrist had gotten Bobby as a patient in the first place. He didn't seem very competent, nor did he have clearance high enough to hear one third of the stuff that Bobby went through on a daily basis. He and Bobby worked for one of the no name security agencies that took care of certain 'special' terrorist groups that operated inside the United States. An agency that had no name, almost no budget, few agents, one hell of an ass for a boss, and one very special secret weapon, one Darien Fawkes, Invisible Man.

Of course it wasn't like he was invisible all of the time, nor was it a birth defect or something like that. No, thanks to his dead scientist brother, a traitor within said agency, and a set up that almost got him locked away for the rest of his life; Darien now had a genetically altered gland surgically grafted into his brain. It couldn't be removed without killing him. Unfortunately thanks to the traitor the gland also didn't work as well as it otherwise would have and Darien was now subject to spurts of Quicksilver Madness, a condition that was controlled by the agency.

If he did not use the gland and coat his body in the quicksilver that it produced, (thus rendering him invisible) it would build up to toxic levels in his body and kill him. If he did use the gland, well there was another toxin that was produced, (thanks to the traitor who was now dead and couldn't fix the damn thing!) and when it built up, it quite literally drove him insane. The counter agent for the second toxin was available to him only if he did as the Official, (the no name agency's director) wanted. The bastard had held the counter agent back once, only allowing it to be given after a few days and after Darien had assaulted someone that he liked. Darien, despite being a thief, had a code of honor. He had never harmed anyone willingly, nor had he ever stolen from someone who couldn't afford losing the things he stole. Knowing what would happen if he did not have access to the counter agent, he was trapped.

Bobby Hobbes was supposed to be his handler, instead they had become partners. They had saved each other's lives more often than not and Darien had slowly become aware that he was not the only prisoner with invisible shackles at the agency. So, drawing on his experiences as a thief, and on his training from Bobby as an investigator, Darien had gone snooping. The things he had learned hadn't shocked him, knowing the Official, but they had wounded his heart. The only two people that he liked at the agency, his partner and Clair Keeply, the doctor who kept him sane, were both held to the agency by shackles as strong as his, theirs were just less visible.

Clair's problems were something that he could take care of, if he could get the information out to the right person. She had been set up, just like he had been. Right now he had no idea who the right person could be so he was sitting on it. Bobby, on the other hand he wasn't too sure, just that Bobby's paranoia, firing from the FBI and subsequent hiring by the Official was way too pat, too easy. There was something going on there, certain documents had hinted as much and Darien was determined to find out what. Working together, Bobby and he could pull off the impossible. When Clair was added to the mix, miracles happened. They were going to get their miracle. One way or another, he'd see to it.

Chapter Six

Vin Tanner stood looking out at the bay from Buck Wilmington's hospital room. Buck was going to be released soon, no more than a day or two, as the doctors had finally gotten the infection licked that had held the big man down. Vin was itching to get back to Denver. Buck just wanted out of the hospital; apparently most of the female nurses who worked at Cascade General were immune to his charm. The rest of the Seven just wanted to get out of the rain. Vin had never seen a city where it rained so much as Cascade did. The news that Ellison had just delivered tore the young man in two different directions though.

The final arrests that were the result of their stumbling over a smuggler's camp had finally been completed and the rest of the boys were finishing up their reports right now. Captain Banks and Chris were assuming that they would be going home just as soon as Buck was released. The rest of the boys were just as tired of Cascade as he was, even with the incentive of perps to hunt, but they owed Ellison and Doctor Sandburg. Ellison had guarded Vin and Ezra while they bonded, making sure that no one interrupted. Knowing their luck without that guarding, the entire thing would have ended up with both Vin and Ezra smack dab on the same floor of the hospital as Buck, and never mind what they owed to Doctor Sandburg for being their Shaman in the first place. It was a heavy debt, and one that had to be repaid, even if Ellison didn't understand that he was asking for a favor, one that would repay that debt.

"I just wanted to let you know that he's headed into Cascade in the next couple of hours. This isn't your territory, but you've got wounded people with you. A head's up just make sense under these circumstances," Jim said from the doorway.

"Your momma raised ya right. It ain't right ta spring somethin' like that on a man. Don't remember what the grandfather said about the crazies, just that if'n it happened, the tribes'd take 'em out an' give 'em a quick an' easy death. 'Tain't their fault they can't handle the gifts the Great Spirit gave 'em, or if they lost their Shaman 'fore they's bonded." Tanner shook his head. "I'm gonna call the guys. Ez's gonna need lookin' after and so's Doc Sandburg. I know you got yer Guide covered and the boys'll take care o' mine, but I'll be there so's ya got some back up jest in case."

Ellison nodded his thanks and didn't even try to hide his sigh of relief. "I'm not sure that Hobbes is really crazy and neither is Blair, but well, Blair got a call from the VA Hospital in LA today. Captain Murdock took off last night and there's no telling where he's headed."

Vin started to nod, but stiffened instead. "Is that what I think it is?" he asked sharply.

"Yeah," Ellison muttered as he pulled out his cell phone. "They're here."

"SHIT!" Vin yelled and pulled out his own cell phone. He waited for Chris to pick up while Ellison ran out the door and down the hall for the elevator. "Chris, we got a possible crazy Sentinel coming inta town right now! Get Ez back here to the hospital. We need ta get Buck out and everyone needs ta protect Ez til we find out ifn' this guy's really crazy er not."

88888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888

Bobby Hobbes knew that he was a paranoid schizophrenic and he had come to an acceptance of that fact, at least he had until his shrink had told him that it was possible he had been misdiagnosed. There was a chance that he could be a Sentinel and he had to travel to Cascade to get that possibility checked out. So he was sitting on a plane with his shrink and his partner wondering how this could be. Depression and paranoia were common enough for the medical world to have that particular diagnosis down pat. Why would his shrink think that he could be a Sentinel and more importantly to him right now, would he be able to keep his job if he was?

His job with the Agency was all he had left. His breakdown had cost him everything, his wife and the possibility of a family, his friends and his life long dream job with the FBI. It was only thanks to the Fat Man that he still had a job as a federal agent. It really was too bad that the man himself wasn't worthy of the respect and gratitude Bobby wanted to give him. It had taken a while for Bobby to truly understand the full implications of just what the Fat Man had done when he had recruited Darien Fawkes, but by the time Darien had settled down into a surprisingly good rookie agent, Bobby had realized just what sort of man the Official of the Agency really was and he couldn't respect the man after that. He could and did respect the man's office, but never Charles Borden personally.

Darien wasn't fully innocent by any means, but he had been a good kid mostly out stealing for kicks and to say 'up yours' to the hand he had been dealt in life. He hadn't deserved what the Fat Man had done to him. It did not matter to Bobby that the man had put together a top notch team in him, Fawkes and Doctor Keeply. What the Fat Man had done was unconscionable. It was possible to be a good, decent man and a good leader, even in the world of spies, especially when dealing with your own people. A man who was any of those things did not commit murder and set up his own people to take the fall. He did not then 'save' them in return for their working for him, nor did he hold a man's sanity just out of his reach to make the point that, that man's sanity rested solely in his hands.

When Darien had gone about collecting evidence of the Fat Man's crimes, Bobby had covered his back and made sure that no one knew that the kid was investigating. The kid thought he was good, but he still had a lot to learn. He wasn't sure what Darien had in mind for that evidence, since because the Agency was a cold war relic that was still doing a lot of good in the world he wouldn't be able to shut it down. There was also the fact that if he did try to shut it down, he was signing his own death warrant, and a very horrible and painful death it would be too, but if it helped the kid to deal with the situation he was in, then Bobby was all for it. There were a lot worse ways the kid could have coped, and speaking of coping, Bobby wondered how close Darien was to tipping over into quick silver madness.

"How ya doing Fawkes, still ok on the juice?" Bobby asked quietly.

Darien discretely showed Bobby the tattoo on his wrist that acted as an indicator for when he needed a shot of counter agent. The snake eating its own tail was entirely green, with no red segments, which meant that he should be good for four days to a week, depending upon how often he quicksilvered. "I'm good," he muttered. He and Bobby were both speaking quietly to ensure that Bobby's shrink didn't hear anything he wasn't supposed to, and even then they were watching what they said. "You know if you were misdiagnosed and you do turn out to be a Sentinel, then HE has an even bigger hook on you than he does now."

"HE doesn't know it, but I can walk away at anytime Dar. I just don't want to. We're doing good work here, work that I want to be involved in. Guys like Terrorist Number One and Terrorist Number Two on our hit list need to be taken down. I know that we can do that. You and me, we're the best of the best. It's a tough job and I'm sorry that HE's got you over a barrel kid, but truthfully that's one of the very few things I'd change about our job."

"I don't have a problem with the job Bobby," Darien said earnestly. "I don't want them running around loose any more than you do. You're right about them needing to be shut down. I just don't like people being stuck in my sort of position. It sucks!" he whispered intensely.

It sucks was a huge understatement, but Darien had a point. Bobby never thought that he'd miss Golda so much but his battered orange van was one of the few places that he and Darien could talk about anything, no matter how dangerous the subject. He had installed quite a few electronic countermeasures to ensure his complete privacy, if not safety. Someone could still blow it up with a LAWS rocket for instance.

"I know and like I said, that's one of the few changes I'd make if I could. I'd also have Eberts loosen up the purse strings a little. HE grips the budget so tight the ink squeaks in pain," Bobby joked then snickered and was glad to hear his partner join in. Hobbes was all too aware of just what the Fat Man was likely to do if he tested positive as a Sentinel. He didn't need Darien fussing about it in his ear. He was twitchy enough now that the plane was landing.

Chapter Seven

Jim Ellison was glad to have Vin Tanner at his back when he saw not only Robert Hobbes, who he was expecting to be at the airport, but Colonel O'Neill as well waiting in the terminal. He sent Tanner to deal with O'Neill while he went to handle Hobbes. Tanner's laid back and easy going manner would help O'Neill settle down after what had to be a hellacious flight. Even now, with his senses under control he hated to make long distance flights.

Hobbes on the other hand, was more likely to be the actual threat if there was going to be one. As he walked towards Hobbes and his companions, Jim sized them up. Robert Hobbes was shorter than he had expected, being more Blair's size than his own. His stocky build and the confident way he moved showed that he was no stranger to trouble, even if he wasn't in Jim's league. He squashed the faint feeling of relief that coursed through him at the sight of Hobbes balding head. It wasn't like he hadn't known the man was losing his hair. It was just that for a while, standing next to Frasier and Tanner, he had been getting just a touch self conscious.

Doctor Beekum was very easy to spot, being so nervous that it was a surprise he hadn't keeled over from sheer nervous exhaustion. Knowing what the man's letter to Blair had said, that reaction was to be expected. No doctor wanted to have a patient that was dying because of the drugs he had prescribed and not even have the condition the drugs were prescribed for.

The last member of the trio that was coming up to Ellison was not what he had expected at all. He knew that Hobbes was bringing his partner, but the beanpole walking, or rather slouching, next to Hobbes was in no way like any federal agent that Jim had ever worked with before. He looked more like one of Blair's college students than a fed, with khaki slacks, beat up old tennis shoes and a very loud Hawaiian shirt, not to mention the amount of hair care products that Jim could smell. This was going to get interesting. He'd better warn Simon.

8888888888888888888888888888888888888888888

Vin Tanner took Ellison's nod towards the group in military uniform as an order and willingly took it. Right now Ellison was in charge. This was his territory. Ambling towards the group, Tanner took his time to size them up. Tiny woman with doctor's insignia as well as major's bars, tall blond woman also with the rank of major, tall civilian with glasses and giving off mixed signals of scholar and warrior, and leading the group was a tall man with grey hair, piercing eyes and held the rank of a full bird Colonel. Judging by the spotted cat spirit that was pacing next to the Colonel, this man was another Sentinel, and judging by the look on his face, his trip hadn't been an easy one. Vin could relate, he hated airplanes with a passion.

Walking ahead of them with the same steady and determined stride that he knew all too well was Shelly Franklin, Doc Sandburg's assistant. No doubt she was the one who had brought this group to Cascade. "Miz Franklin, welcome home," Vin nodded and waited to be introduced. The formalities were quick; Majors Carter and Frasier, a Doctor Jackson, linguist, and Colonel O'Neill.

Vin introduced himself in turn. "Right now another feller's coming to see Doc Sandburg so don't be too surprised if Sentinel Ellison's spendin' more time watchin' him than payin' attention to ya. Fella's got him a mite spooked."

"Why is Ellison spooked?" Jack wanted to know. He set aside his discomfort from the trip. He had never realized just how loud a plane could be, or just how many different sounds there were, not to mention how difficult it was keeping the rest of his senses on an even keel. He almost relished the idea of something as normal as trouble to take his mind off of his own.

Jack had read up on the first known Sentinel and had been impressed with what he had read. Being high up on the security clearance list had meant that he had seen the full version of Ellison's military file with nothing blacked out. Not many people could survive what he had and still remain sane and decent men. Ellison not only had, he had gone on to continue protecting his home and people as a police officer in what had to be one of the most dangerous cities in America. He wanted to know why this new man had the Sentinel of Cascade spooked.

"Fella's been treated by a shrink fer years," Tanner shook his head in disgust. He didn't like shrinks, never had and never would.

"Is he nuts?" Jack asked bluntly.

"Jack!" Daniel said, exasperated. "Just because the man is seeing a....."

"Don't know, that's what's got Ellison spooked," Vin interrupted." "Last time a crazy came through his Shaman took his first Spirit Walk," Tanner looked hard at the two men, "on his own."

Seeing Daniel wince, Jack asked. "Not good I take it?"

"Nope," Tanner said before changing the subject. "Got a van ta take ya'll out ta the Center. Gettin' ya outta town'll help settle him down." Vin turned and led the group out of the airport. Having come in separate cars was coming in handy right now, and Vin having brought the van his team used was even better. He was able to load up O'Neill's entire group with no problem.

"Spirit Walk Danny?" Jack asked quietly as they rode through the streets of Cascade.

"Jack, a Shaman's initiation usually includes a near death experience. When it's done as part of a ritual, there is another Shaman there to help bring the soul back to the body, usually the apprentice's mentor. Basically Tanner is saying that the last time an insane Sentinel came through Cascade, Blair died. I remember him writing to me about it. I just didn't realize at the time that a Sentinel was involved. He said that a perp he and Ellison were trying to catch drowned him in the fountain at Rainer University. He was declared dead at the scene but for some reason he came back." Daniel shook his head. "It wasn't an easy time for anyone."

Jack nodded, he understood. As many times as Daniel had come back from the dead, it had become a running joke at the SGC, but it was something that he never took lightly. Daniel's deaths always hit him like one of the Asgaurd spaceships had landed on him without warning. He settled back into his seat to watch the scenery go by. For such a dangerous city, Cascade looked really nice. Ok, it wasn't as nice as some of the places he'd seen off world, but for an earth city it was beautiful. There was greenery everywhere, flowers, shrubs and even trees; although once they got out of the city proper they were all pines. Pine trees were boring. He saw them on practically every planet he'd ever been on, save for the ones with no atmosphere, desert or water surfaces.

The entrance to the Sentinel and Guide Center was a long, winding gravel driveway, with a pine forest with dense underbrush right up against the edges running the full length. It was all very tunnel-like and Jack's impression wasn't changed much by the time they got to the parking lot, a wide cleared space that was also graveled. He really didn't like forests like this one; there were too many places for something to hide, like a squad of Jaffa. Ok, there weren't any Jaffa on Earth other than Teal'c, but still he was on edge and the forest wasn't helping.

There was a black van with a red racing stripe down one side parked in front of a large log cabin. There was also a little sporty car of some type that Jack didn't recognize but then he had never been into cars; planes of course and some kinds of trucks but never cars. On the other hand, he knew the large black man leaning against that particular van. Sergeant B.A. Baracas, and where B.A. was, the rest of the team was never far behind. There was only one reason that particular group of men would be here of all places, Murdock. If the hell that he had been going through for the last week was what Murdock had been living with for the last 30 years, then it was no wonder he had been living in a mental ward all that time. "Tanner, if you have Ellison's number you might want to warn him that there's another potential crazy man here."

Tanner didn't say anything just pulled out a cell phone and nodded towards the building before walking off into the forest. Jack figured that meant that they were supposed to go inside. He turned to Franklin. "Why don't you take them," he nodded at his companions, "to check things out. I'm going to go talk to the Sergeant." He nodded at B.A. He wanted to find out what was up with them as soon as possible. Colonel Smith's team was well known for their habit of being in just the right place at just the right time, or vice versa depending upon how you looked at it. "Murdock?" he asked quietly after his group had left the two men alone.

"Yeah," the big Sergeant nodded. "He got tested at the VA. Tests had him worked up real bad. He called Face and we brought him up here. Crazy fool slept the whole way."

"What do his doctors say?"

"Doc Richter was the one who got hold of the guy running this place. Turns out the stuff he's been seeing and such is this Sentinel thing, except for maybe the fool's invisible dog." B.A. still wasn't happy about that. Murdock drove him crazy with Billy. He wasn't happy with the fact that he even knew the dog's name. He was however, glad that his brother was finally getting the help that he needed.

"Seeing a dog that isn't there isn't so bad, not for what he's gone through," was O'Neill's opinion. He too had spent his time in prisoner camps. He also knew from the scuttlebutt just what sort of treatment Murdock had probably gotten at the 'Hilton'. It made what he went through in the Middle East look like a cake walk.

"Why're you here? I can see you're still in. Your bosses want a Sentinel on their payroll?" B.A. scowled. He loved his country, but he still had issues with the brass.

"Nope, they already got one," O'Neill paused, "Me."

Chapter Eight

Ellison didn't like Robert Hobbes, and it had nothing to do with his possible insanity. Hobbes was cocky, arrogant and extremely proud of the fact that he was a fed. He didn't know which federal agency Hobbes worked for and frankly he didn't care. The man just got his back up. Blair would probably chide him about knee jerk reactions to feds later.

"Bobby doesn't want to be a Sentinel," his partner, Darien Fawkes said quietly. "We don't work for the nicest guy in the world. Bobby being a Sentinel will make things a lot worse."

"What's that got to do with anything?" Ellison asked. They were standing outside the cabin where Hobbes' group was staying at the Center. He rubbed his nose. There was something about Darien that smelled sharp, metallic, and cold even.

"Pretty much everything," Darien responded. "Bobby gets a little hyper when he hasn't taken his drugs. When you add in the threat from our boss if he does prove to be a Sentinel and the fact that he really doesn't want to be one, he gets worse. Instead of getting worried and sick to his stomach or something like that, Bobby gets loud and proud. It's his way of coping."

"It's irritating," Ellison sighed, "But I guess I understand. Just, try to get Mr. Patriotic to tone it down a little will you? Captain Murdock, Colonel O'Neill and I are all vets and we didn't have the best tours ok?"

Darien stopped. "So was Bobby, he was a Marine. I'm not sure where he was sent, but I do know he saw combat."

"Seeing combat is one thing, what we went through is another," Jim growled. He turned and stomped off, getting into his truck and driving off, presumably back to Doctor Sandburg's office.

Darien just stood there stunned at Ellison's reaction. He really hadn't thought about it, either their military experiences or Bobby's, just that he had thought it was something the men had in common. He hadn't meant to hit a nerve.

"Hit a nerve Fawksy?" Bobby asked as he came out of the cabin, echoing his partner's train of thought without knowing.

"Yeah, guess I did," Darien said slowly. "You heard?"

"Yeah, much as I didn't want to," Bobby said. "Dare, the kind of things that happened to those guys, well those are the kinds of guys that Marines are proud to serve under. Captain James J. Ellison survived the helicopter crash that killed his entire Ranger team, buried them and then went on to complete their mission. When the Army found him a year and a half later, deep in the Peruvian jungle he just asked if he was being relieved of duty. No feeling sorry for himself or anything, just 'get the job done' attitude. The guys sent in to see if there were any survivors were shocked.

"Captain H.M. Murdock is one of the very few pilots to survive the pleasures of the hospitality of the very infamous 'Hanoi Hilton,' which is probably the worst known prisoner of war camp ever. Torture doesn't half describe what the men there went through." Bobby grabbed the smaller of his partner's bags before continuing on to the last Sentinel. "I don't know the Colonel, but the insignia on his uniform tells me that he's probably been through some serious shit. If Ellison wants me to tone it down, I'll tone it down."

"You're just nervous," Darien protested as he hauled his bag into the cabin. He was glad that they didn't have to share with Bobby's shrink. The man had said that he would go to a hotel once he found out about the sleeping arrangements here. Personally Darien liked the idea of him and Bobby sharing the cabin. He'd never been camping as a kid and this was probably as close as he would ever get.

"Nervous? Me? I will have you know that Robert Hobbes is never nervous!" Grinning at the return of his partner's normal exuberance, Darien grabbed a bunk and began to unpack.

888888888888888888888888888888888888888

Shelly Franklin had delivered the military officers to the S&G Center and was going over her data in the crime lab at the Cascade Police Department. She couldn't wait until her father's company got the renovations to the S&G Center finished. They really needed a lab of their own but she couldn't even begin to stock one until he was finished with converting the leader's cabin into a lab. She could only use this equipment when no one else wanted it, crimes being more important than her research. On the other hand, most of the criminalists were more than happy to help her when she was working on something that they considered to be important as well.

Right now Serena Chang was helping her to analyze the voice recordings she had made of all three Guides as well as Doctor Jackson. She also had several tapes of Captain Banks and other male officers to use as a control group. All of these men were most definitely not Guides. Ellison had told her that their voices were actually painful to hear some times, especially when his hearing was spiking.

"I'm looking for something that's common to all four men that isn't in the voices of the control group," she told Serena. "There has to be something there. I just can't find any similarity between any of the men visually and sight and sound are a Human's most well developed senses. Without a way to let a Sentinel, or for that matter a trained person know who a Guide is before a Sentinel needs one, everyone is going to have a lot of problems. I can't see this system developing purely on chance like that."

The analysis took time, breaking down the voices into different graphs, each showing their individual pitches or harmonics. Every person's voice is as unique as fingerprints and for much the same reasons. Different people put different stresses on their vocal cords, much the same way that they did any other part of their bodies, which only made the differences more obvious to those who were qualified to do voice analysis. With all of the voices on the tapes speaking in the same pattern and tones, or at least trying to, the analysis was much easier.

"Maybe it's more a matter of trust than any physical cue," Serena proposed as she fed yet another tape through her machine.

"Oh, there is no doubt that trust plays a huge part in a Sentinel and Guide pairing. They have to trust each other completely. At the same time though, each one of the Guides I've gotten on tape has displayed the same response in using this type of speaking voice when their Sentinel has been in distress. Even this tape of Doctor Jackson shows this response and he was doing it as I walked into Colonel O'Neill's hospital room. I didn't have time to suggest using it. It has to be instinctive. I really think that there has to be something here," Shelly said.

"Well let's see," Serena said as she started pulling up the graphs on her computer. "Hmmm, this is interesting." The graph showed the same sort of scrunched together up and down line that reminded Shelly of a squashed heart beat monitor. She watched as Serena went to work separating something from everything else, taking fragments of the wave lines and moving them to different sections of the screen. She didn't want to interrupt because she knew that the forensic tech was onto something.

"I think you might be right. See here?" Serena asked, pointing a single line that she'd pulled out. "This looks like an extra frequency or vibration on all of the Guide tapes. There isn't any sign of it in the control group. To a regular listener it wouldn't be heard but I think this would be in any Sentinel's hearing range."

"What does it sound like? Can you make it so we can hear it?" Shelly asked excited. This was what she had been looking for, she just knew it.

"Sure, give me a minute." Serena worked her magic and soon a fuzzy sound was emanating from the speakers. "Huh," she said. "Did you use the same tape brands and recorder for both groups?"

"Yep, I duplicated everything I could, right down to how far away from the speakers I recorded." Shelly grinned. She had known that would be important. It was amazing just how much Blair had been right about forensics and lab work being the same.

"Then you're right. There is something here. More importantly, testing for it is going to be easy once you know what you're looking for. I can recommend a good sound tech if you're interested in chasing this lead down once your lab is up and running," Serena offered.

"That would be wonderful!"

Just then another machine beeped loudly and Serena sighed, "Back to the grindstone. Robbery has a ton of trace for me to analyze."

"Good luck with that," Shelly cheerfully said as she gathered up her work. This was the breakthrough she had been searching for.

888888888888888888888888888888888

O'Neill and B.A. walked into the Center's main office building only to find Hannibal, Face, Murdock and a woman all sitting in what appeared to be a makeshift waiting room off to one side of what had to have been at one time a dining hall, complete with cafeteria. Behind the table, chairs and couch, O'Neill could see a stairway leading to a loft on the right. To the other side of the door, he could see a very young woman bouncing in a chair behind a reception desk. She was working on a laptop computer with a young man sitting next to her, both of their heads glued to the screen. It was obvious that he would get no help from them.

Shrugging, he parked himself next to Daniel who was busy typing away on one of his laptops. Janet was next to Carter who was doing the same thing. Across from them Face was flipping his way through a GQ magazine while Hannibal was reading one of his military history books, both of them took up one of the couches with Murdock in the middle. Murdock was petting his invisible dog, looking like he had all the time in the world. The woman seated next to Hannibal was going through what looked like a medical file.

B.A. grunted and sat himself next to the woman. That answered one of Jack's questions, this woman, whoever she was, was part of Hannibal's team now. Mentally he tagged her as 'not to be messed with' and left it at that. He didn't need to know any more.

"We waiting for something?" he muttered to Daniel as he picked up his own magazine. He was lucky. The stack of magazines on the table, the one constant to any waiting room, actually had recent magazines and a good selection rather than the usual mishmash. The one he chose was a fishing magazine, one he hadn't had time to read yet.

"Apparently it's considered rude for a Sentinel to meet another Sentinel's Guide without him or her being in close proximity. They're in the middle of setting those kinds of cultural rules up and this one is based on Blair's drowning. Alex Barnes killed him when he refused to go with her and be her Guide," Daniel answered absently. "Ellison wasn't there to protect him from her."

"Well at least this weird cultural rule has a good reason behind it," Jack muttered back. It wasn't the first time he'd run into such things, but usually it was off world and he only understood the reason behind the rules about a third of the time.

Daniel had learned a long time ago that he was never going to get Jack to understand that all cultures were equally prone to making up strange and occasionally stupid rules. The good news was that he had managed to get the man to agree to respect those rules as long as no one, namely his team, got hurt. "They usually do Jack," Daniel sighed.

Chapter Nine

Vin Tanner walked into the Center's main building and stopped short. He knew that Miz Franklin had made sure that Doctor Jackson knew not to go in to see Doctor Sandburg until Ellison got there. He also knew that Colonel O'Neill had known the second potentially insane Sentinel and would keep that one away from the Guide for now. What he hadn't expected was to see the group sitting quietly in the waiting area. The group he had brought in was sitting on one side while the new one was sitting on the other.

What was most surprising wasn't the differences among the men of the second group, but the fact that the man in the baseball cap and leather jacket with a tiger on the back was petting a spirit dog. What was even more startling was the fact that no one was even giving him a second look. He walked over to the back of the couch and leaned down to take a closer look at the spirit dog. It wasn't like any one he had ever seen before. "What kinda spirit dog is that?"

"YOU CAN SEE HIM?" came from several shocked throats.

"Sure," Vin shrugged. "I always been able to see the Spirit Guides, parta bein' a Guardian, what Doc Sandburg calls a Sentinel."

"Billy's a Black Russian Terrier but I've never met anyone who could ever see him before. You tellin' me that I can see him because I'm a Sentinel and not because I'm nuts?" Murdock asked.

"Yep," Tanner nodded. "Most Sentinels kin see Spirit Guides at least once in a while, when they need ta. I'm one of those who kin see 'em mosta the time. This is the first time I ever seen a Sentinel with a dog as a Spirit Guide though. Most a us have cats fer Spirit Guides. Canines usually go with Guides. Their job is ta help us connect with the tribe, so they get canines 'cause their pack animals. Cats 'er solitary animals but they're the best hunters, best protectors."

"Right, right," Murdock said, nodding. He took another look at Billy, studying the animal he now knew was somewhat real. "Ya know, I've read about Spirit Guides and I don't think Billy's mine. I mean, yeah he likes hanging around me a lot but ya know, he's just not a good reflection of my inner self."

Tanner nodded, while the rest of the group looked on amazed at the conversation. "He belongs ta someone close ta ya then." Murdock nodded.

"What you talkin' about?" B.A. burst out, finally

"Spirit Guides are kinda like guardian angels in animal form, B.A." Murdock said. "It's a very old tribal religious thing where the spirits of nature help guide the people through their lives. The Shaman would look at the Spirit Guide to see what sort of life path the young people would take. When someone was sick, the Spirit Guide would reflect what sort of illness the person would have. They would show up in times of trouble, that sort of thing."

"So why's that one been hangin' round you, fool?"

"What they're saying is that Spirit Guides are a representation of people, B.A., and if Billy doesn't represent Murdock then he represents one of us," Hannibal pointed out. "We're the only ones that are close to Murdock that have been around as long as Billy has. He's been keeping an eye on Murdock for one of us."

"I ain't no Black Russian Terrier, Hannibal," B.A. growled. "That's one sissy dog."

"Billy isn't a sissy!" Murdock protested. "He takes a lot of grooming, but he's a tough dog." With that, realization dawned on their faces and they turned towards the last man of their unit, the very dapper Faceman, a con who had traded on his looks for decades while still being tough enough to survive as a member of their unit.

"What?" Face asked, uneasy.

"Billy is you, Lieutenant. It makes sense; you're Murdock's closest point of contact, his confidant and closest friend. He tells you things he won't tell anyone else, not even us." Hannibal wasn't jealous of that fact. They all knew that Murdock needed extra care and Face was the one who had taken over that role. He had done it in the cages at the Hilton thirty years ago and hadn't stopped since.

In some ways Face took care of them all making sure that they had everything they needed, from health care to items for jobs to a shoulder to lean on when needed. He just did it rather quietly, unless someone noticed at which point he would be sure to make a big deal out of it so that he would be ignored next time. Hannibal was the brains of their operations, B.A. the muscle, Murdock their eyes and ears where no one knew, either in the sky or on the ground, but in many ways it was Face who was their heart, as much as he would deny it.

"But if Billy is me, then what is Murdock's Spirit Guide and why hasn't he seen him or it?" Face asked. "I mean, wouldn't it make more sense for someone to see their own Spirit Guide?"

"Not if they're in desperate need of their Guide," Ellison said from the doorway. "Holly, Hobbes and his partner should be here shortly. They're settling in to Cabin Two. His doctor will be here in about an hour. He went to check into a hotel."

He turned back to the group. "Most likely Captain Murdock's Spirit Guide has been following you around Lieutenant, each of them making sure to keep track of the one person that their person was most concerned about. Captain have you ever seen or heard anything when you just knew that the Lieutenant was in trouble?" Ellison asked.

Murdock closed his eyes and thought. "Yeah, but I thought it was Billy growling. Now that I think of it, he couldn't have been growling because he was whimpering at the time. It was real soft though, not hardly loud at all."

"Well, I don't see Spirit Guides all that often, just when there's a real pressing need, like I've got an invader to my territory to deal with or I'm going into someone else's."

"Or you're about to do something really stupid," a voice came from above. Down the stairs bounded Blair, who had been waiting for Jim to show up. He had also been listening to the conversation.

"I thought we agreed we weren't going to talk about that," Jim sighed. The sigh was for show. It had taken a long time and a lot of talking between the two men before they could ever mention Alex Barnes in even a roundabout way. That Blair could now tease him about it, complete with cheeky grin, was great. He could also see that Blair had been preparing himself to meet with Hobbes because he was in full Shaman mode, not that anyone else would have been able to tell. He was just a little less bouncy and both a little less and a little more focused in a way that Jim couldn't explain. It was as though Blair was walking with one foot in this world and one foot in the next.

"Hmm, now which specific 'that' are you talking about big guy?" Blair teased before kneeling next to Murdock. He didn't react to Jim falling into position behind him. "It's not surprising that you haven't seen your Spirit Guide Captain. Like most people, when you are relaxed you have no reason to look up." With that Blair put his finger under Murdock's chin and gently moved his head until they were both looking out the large front windows.

Outside at the edge of the parking lot was a very large tree and stretched out on one of its branches was a mid sized cat. "It's a clouded leopard. They have amazing arboreal skills, spending a great deal of their lives in the treetops. That's also the reason so little is known about them. They are very wary and it's hard for scientists to get close enough to study them. Usually they only catch glimpses of them from a distance."

Hannibal chuckled, his arms crossed over his chest and the sound coming from around his cigar. "Now that sounds like Murdock," he pulled the cigar out, "as long as you add as playful as a kitten."

"Many cats continue playful behavior well into their senior years," Blair agreed.

"Fool ain't gonna make it to his senior years," B.A. said. "Even if he ain't _crazy_ crazy, he is; flying anything he can get his fool hands on. One of these days, he's gonna crash and not walk away."

"Aw B.A.! That's the nicest thing you've ever said to me!" Murdock said with a grin. Then his eyes lit up and he threw his arms around B.A.

"Get off me you crazy fool!" B.A. yelled. "I'm gonna kill him, Hannibal! I mean it this time!"

"Now B.A. you know that for a pilot that's a great way to die," Hannibal pointed out as he and Face gently pulled Murdock off of him. Both men were grinning, mostly at the way Murdock had shown them that just because he was sane, didn't mean he was going to change.

B.A. was scowling but they could tell that he was also pleased. "Just tone it down, you crazy fool," he grumbled. "I gotta go make a call." He stomped out of the building.

Although he was amused at just how much things hadn't changed in the thirty years since he had met the men, O'Neill decided that it was time the show was over. "Ok, Dr. Sandburg I'm guessing that the Spirit Guide thing means that Murdock is a Sentinel and I passed the tests that Miss Franklin did, which means that I'm one too. So, now what?" he asked.

"Now we get you into a cabin and give you time to settle in. Dinner is at seven here in the mess hall."

Chapter Ten

"So a simple voice test will show who is a Guide and who isn't," Blair said, relieved. He really didn't want to have the responsibility of identifying Guides. He had too much on his plate as it was, between guiding Jim, his work with the police department, which included much of his Shaman work as well, helping to identify new Sentinels and setting up an organization to help said Sentinels, he was stretching even his legendary endurance.

"A test done only when those being tested are using the pattern that I have isolated and decided to call Guide voice, the signature reverberation is strongest then. It's still there, but not nearly as prominent in the normal speaking voice." Shelly paced the records room in the loft above the kitchen and office. "Now that Sentinels are known, how are we going to get people in here to test for being Guides? We need to have Guides before a Sentinel comes on line." They had been extremely lucky so far, every Sentinel that had come in had brought their own Guide with them.

"That will take time. First we have to get people used to the idea that Sentinels have partners called Guides. Once people realize that, we'll get volunteers for testing. In the meantime, we'll test everyone close to our new Sentinels. As much as I'd like to, I can't just assign Guides based on their Spirit Guides the way they do in tribal societies. We have to prove things scientifically for people to be able to accept the idea these days." Blair sighed and pulled off his glasses. Rubbing his hand over his face, he sighed again. "You need to test Lieutenant Peck."

Shelly easily ignored the reference to Blair's Shaman abilities, abilities that were considered to be 'hocus pocus' in the scientific world. "That's easy enough. OK, I already have all active Guides on file with their test results as well as the control samples. Just to be thorough, I should test Colonel Smith and Sergeant Baracas as well. What about Agent Hobbes and his friend?"

"They're coming in for Hobbes' first evaluation as soon as they get settled in. I should be able to run him through the first set of tests before dinner. I talked with Doctor Beekum and he's given me Hobbes' psych evaluation and I have to tell you that there is a lot missing from it. My guess, something's not right here. I've been working with cops for over four years now, not as an outsider, but in the trenches. I've had to go through a cop's version of a psych eval myself and I have to tell you, there is..." he sighed once more, unable to express exactly what was bothering him. "All I can say is that there is definitely something not quite right here."

8888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888

Murdock didn't feel too comfortable taking off while Face was being tested for Guide abilities, so he hung around the back side of the main building while Hannibal sat on the front porch. Maggie was inside talking with Holly, the receptionist and Doctor Beekum, the shrink that had shown up soon after B.A. had left to make his phone call. Murdock knew that they didn't need to stand guard but old habits died hard, as had been demonstrated by what he had asked the doctor when he had been introduced.

He hadn't meant to go off on the poor man, but he just couldn't help it. The nervous sweat, shaking hands, and stutter when talking with Doctor Sandburg had set him off. It was just like being confronted with Colonel Lynch again. Too bad it had scared Ellison.

With all of the years Murdock had spent studying and cataloging the reactions of those around him, he was pretty sure that Ellison was scared, not of him, but what he represented. Thirty years was a long time to spend in a mental ward. It had also been a big fear of his before he had been forced to either face his fear or endanger his teammates. No one really wanted to be crazy, especially a control freak. Ellison, he was sure, was a first class control freak and the sort of person that he normally loved baiting with his off the wall and out of control behavior, but he didn't like genuinely scaring people.

Murdock mentally girded his loins, (his sense of humor and crazy training providing him with an image of himself dressed as a Roman Gladiator) and walked over to where Ellison was sitting at one of the outdoor picnic tables. He sat down and looked Ellison right in the eye. This was going to be hard, but it was necessary so he jumped in feet first.

"I came on line, as the doc calls it, in the 'Hanoi Hilton'." Here Murdock paused before going on. "It was bad. I don't remember a lot of it, especially after I spent time in the pit. The VC saved their worst for the pilots. I was betrayed." Murdock looked away at this point, the pain of that old wound resurfacing before he could shove it back into its box. "We got out though. After that we went back to kicking the VC in the teeth, business as usual except that I was hallucinating, or so I thought. The guys, they accepted it, learned to work around it. Things stayed like that for seven, eight months."

Jim watched as Murdock struggled to say what he needed to say, his halting words and short sentences showing that the subject was difficult in the extreme for the man to talk about. Jim had understood just how difficult it was going to be from the first sentence. The 'Hanoi Hilton' was the most infamous prisoner of war camp from the Vietnam War. Jim's own black opps experience gave him a pretty good idea of what Murdock wasn't able to say. Torture, rape, starvation and mental abuse were common methods used in places like that to break prisoners, and as the Captain had said, at the 'Hilton' they had saved the worst of those for the pilots.

"Then came our last mission. The General sent us out to rob a bank, deny funds to the enemy. We took too long getting back. Showed up two days after the war had ended. The base was an ant hill. The VC had hit while we were gone. The General was dead, along with lots of others and our written orders had disappeared, vanished without a trace. They didn't show up for another 25 years, stashed in a cretin's footlocker. He died in the attack so we never even got the satisfaction of killing him. We just showed up back at base and were arrested for treason."

Jim wasn't sure if Murdock was aware of how angry he looked at that moment. "We did not commit treason. We were following orders." Murdock let his anger go with a deep breath. Then he grinned. "We didn't take too well to being accused either. All of that time we spent at the 'Hilton' came in handy. We talked it over, not that the MP's ever figured that out, and we decided that we had to escape as soon as we got back stateside. The thing was, I was spiking and zoning all over the place. The cells we were in were just; bad. So I told the guys that I was going to get committed. I didn't think it would be hard. I was having hallucinations, not to mention losing time. I figured I was guaranteed a white coat trip. It scared the hell out of me, but I had to do it to protect my team. One zone out would be all it would take and boom, we'd all be right back in front of a firing squad."

Murdock laughed, "Turned out they wouldn't take me. I had to figure something out fast so I gave them more colorful hallucinations. It still took longer than I wanted, but eventually they sent me to a stateside hospital." Murdock reached out and poked Ellison in the chest. "This is the point of my little rambling talk. I've had to work damned hard to stay in that hospital. My Sentinel abilities did not get me committed. My fear for my team mates lives did.

"My determination to keep them safe and my sense of humor was what kept me in there. I love to poke at people, get them to react. That's why I went off of that shrink." Murdock gestured behind him at the main building. "I've spent thirty years doing this. So don't get so upset when I go off on one of my tangents. Most of the time I'm just yanking people's chains; that doc reminded me of the guy that was in charge of the prison that the guys broke out of here in the states. Lynch always was an easy target. I've spent more than a quarter of a century playing this game. It's a very ingrained habit now. It's going to take a long time to get rid of it and in reality; it's very unlikely that I ever will."

Jim nodded to show that he understood. Murdock had picked up on his increased heart rate at the very least. It was easy for a Sentinel to tell when someone was nervous. As Murdock had been very open and honest with him, he decided that it was only right to return the favor. "I witnessed a murder when I was a kid, but my father made sure that the police thought I was just an upset kid telling tales. They believed him because only someone with Sentinel abilities could see the killer at that distance. My father knew that I was telling the truth, but he told me that if I ever told anyone they'd think I was a freak. It's taken Blair a lot of time and effort to help me get past that. What's worse is that until the press conference brought Frasier and Vin out, the only other Sentinel I'd ever met was insane. She was also a stone cold killer."

Murdock accepted Jim's story with a simple nod before speaking. "Deep talk like this makes me twitchy. I don't like it, so usually at this point I'd go off. I know it really bothers you though so I won't, but since I can't do that, I'm outta here. See ya, Ellison."

888888888888888888888888888888888888888888

Darien ambled along following Bobby to the main building and taking in the sights of the forest around him. If it wasn't for the Sentinel or not question, this would be a great place to relax. It was because of his preoccupation with the forest that he failed to realize that they were at the end of the trail until they were actually in the parking lot.

"You ok Dare?" Bobby asked when Darien stumbled slightly.

"Fine," he answered absentmindedly. The old man sitting on the porch of the main building had captured his attention and for far more reasons than being someone new in an almost completely unfamiliar environment. He knew who the old man was, John 'Hannibal' Smith, the leader of the A Team. Darien had grown up in LA. He knew who those men were and more importantly right now, what they had done and not done.

This was the answer he had been looking for, his way to protect his new family and most importantly his partner. They may be retired, but they had to still have connections that could get the Official removed from his post for his crimes. Although most of the people that the A Team had helped weren't all that well off, they had also done a lot of good for men in high positions as well. He'd have to ditch Bobby before he could talk to Smith though. That meant that he wouldn't have much time to talk before Bobby came looking for him. Bobby was almost paranoid at times about keeping track of his partner when they were in the field. Knowing what had prompted that reaction, Darien was comfortable with it, but it meant that Smith would have to do most of the work without him.

Chapter Eleven

Tanner was glad to get back to Team Seven's cabin. He was also glad to see that all of his brothers, save for JD, who was up at the main building, were guarding his Guide like a pack of wild animals guarding their young. Ezra of course, was not so pleased with the situation. "I hardly think that I am incapable of handling myself! I am neither a child nor am I feeble! I am a trained federal agent and one of the best undercover operatives in the world! I DO NOT NEED BABYSITTERS!" he snarled the last sentence in Vin's face.

"Crazies go fer Guides," Vin said flatly. "The last one that came through here killed Doc Sandburg less than a year ago. All the Guides here, meanin' you an' Doc Sandburg, ain't gettin' near anyone that might be nuts without some kinda guards. We cleared one of 'em. Captain Murdock ain't crazy even if he's been thinkin' he is fer years. The other guy ain't cleared yet. When he is, then we kin get outta here. I gotta help keep watch on this new guy."

Ezra blew out his frustration. He knew just how much Vin felt that he owed Jim Ellison and Blair Sandburg. Honestly he couldn't deny that he felt the same way. However, having his brothers treat him as though he was a witness in a high profile mob killing and not a seasoned professional rankled. "I do realize that Vin. We owe them a great deal that can never truly be repaid. However," here he paused and poked Vin in the chest. "I do not appreciate being sequestered in this fashion. I believe that my skills are far more useful in this situation checking into the background of this new gentleman, along with JD's."

Vin nodded. "Yer probably right but yer still gonna have guards!"

888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888

"John, you'd better not be smoking that thing," Maggie said as she joined him on the porch.

"Of course not," Hannibal said, far more comfortable with this conversation than the one he suspected he was going to be having soon. He had watched the two men coming out of the forest and the look that had flashed over the taller one's face was one that he was all too familiar with; desperation mixed with hope. The young man had recognized Hannibal, and that usually meant a plea for help, in spite of the fact that he and his men were retired. He did what he could when that happened, usually passing them on to people who were still in the business, but there was no way he could ever go out into the field again, the injury to his leg had seen to that

Hannibal was smart enough and knew himself well enough to know that he was addicted to adrenaline and that he was lucky to have survived this long. He had always believed that he would die in the field, and had never really made any plans for the future other than doing whatever it took to take care of his men. His forced retirement had come as a bit of a shock. For several years only Maggie and his men had made life worth living. His men had flat out told him that there was no way they would ever go out again. They didn't trust anyone enough to take his place. Maggie had been the one to nurse him through his recovery and who to this day continued to bully him into taking better care of himself. Now he was more resigned to working behind the scenes.

However instead of the plea for help that he was expecting, the young man passed him a computer disk in a well timed stumble. The two men apologized for the mishap and continued on with the shorter and older of the two men being concerned and protective of his friend while at the same time teasing him unmercifully about being clumsy. Hannibal had been in the game for far too long to let the changes in scenario faze him. He simply levered himself out of his seat and offered his arm to Maggie. "Why don't we go down to the cabin and check in on B.A.? I'm sure that he's finished his call by now." Together they walked down to their cabin. They had a few hours to check out what was on the disk before dinner.

Face always made sure to have the latest in electronic gizmos, a habit left over from their years on the run where any advantage had to be exploited in order to keep them out of jail. That meant when Hannibal and Maggie arrived at the cabin, B.A. had already set up a compact office on the small table in the corner of their cabin. This cabin, unlike the others, had already been converted for Sentinel and Guide use.

Instead of the standard three bunk beds lining the walls and nothing else in the single room, this cabin now had; a small loft with a double bed and a small dresser chest, a very small bunk room containing two new bunk beds and two matching dressers, and a living area containing a small table with chairs and a pullout loveseat. The front porch also had a hanging swing and two rocking chairs as well.

Hannibal was impressed. The space was only sixteen feet by twenty four feet but it made a very cozy guest cabin for up to eight people. There was more that could be done to secure the place but few people were as paranoid as he was.

"This is really nice!" Maggie exclaimed. Now that Murdock was settled down she was determined to use this time as a mini vacation. While she was still the only doctor in her small town, she now had a nurse who was more than capable of looking after her patients for a few days. "I think I'll sit out on the porch with my knitting. This is such a lovely place. You don't mind do you boys?" Without waiting for an answer from either B.A. or Hannibal she grabbed her bag and slipped out the door.

Maggie knew the look on her husband's face when he was working on a problem and welcomed whatever the current complication might be. The hardest part of his retirement was finding things for him to work on that were complicated enough to hold his attention and yet at the same time, could be done from a desk. "What's up Hannibal?" B.A. asked as soon as she had left. He too knew that expression, only his experience was far greater than Maggie's.

Hannibal pulled a computer disk out of his pocket. "Two new guys came up to the main building and one of them passed me this. He had the look B.A."

"Let's see what's on it then," B.A. said seriously. Although they had all retired from field work, not one of them was truly out. They had become felicitators in a way, connecting people with problems to those who could help them and getting information to those whose help would eventually be needed. These days they were actually busier than they had been before, if not as physically involved.

8888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888

To say that it had been a stressful afternoon was a bit of an understatement. That was the only reason that Blair could find for not realizing that Colonel O'Neill's probable Guide, Doctor Jackson, was his own old friend Daniel Jackson. Well, that and the fact that Daniel had changed a lot from the geeky young man he had known. Daniel had been a good friend at a time when he had really needed one and had continued to be one in all the years since, but they had kept in contact through letters, phone calls and eventually email. He sat shaking his head at his own blindness. "I can't believe I didn't recognize you, Daniel."

Blair sat at one of the dining room tables with Jim next to him. Around the table with them sat Daniel with Jack, Carter and Janet. Jack was grinning at the sheepish grins on both scientists' faces. "We did a makeover on him," he joked.

"Jack," Daniel drawled, embarrassed. "Knock it off. I just cut my hair and bulked up a bit that's all."

"That's ok, it's not like I haven't changed any either," Blair laughed. "How's the cabin? We can open up another one if we need to."

"It's a lot better than some of the places we've stayed," Carter reassured him. "Shelly Franklin told us that it might be possible for other members of the Colonel's team to act as temporary Guides."

Blair nodded. "If a Sentinel's team members are people that he or she trusts with their Guide's life; then they can act as temporary Guides. It is the trust issue that's the most important thing in a situation where the primary Guide is unavailable."

Jack nodded, "If that's the sort of thing that's needed then my team can definitely fill in for Daniel." He knew that it would eventually come to that. Daniel was the ultimate trouble magnet and they often got separated off world. Usually when that happened he needed every advantage he could get in finding Daniel and rescuing him. "Do you have any techniques that can be applied to search and rescue work? Daniel has a tendency to get into a bit of trouble in the field. Psychos tend to like him way too much for my comfort level."

Jim snorted, "I'm beginning to think that it's part of being a Guide. I can't tell you how many times the perp we've been after has latched onto Blair."

"And here I thought it was just Face," Hannibal said as he and his men came up. Maggie was busy talking with the cook in the kitchen and would wait awhile before coming over. They pulled over chairs from the next table.

"The new kids, Agents Hobbes and Fawkes have a serious problem. Their supervisor is blackmailing them into doing their jobs. What's worse is that he set them up for the blackmail in the first place."

He pulled out a folder and handed it to Jack. "I know that you've got more than a few contacts on the shady side of the intelligence community, Jack. The guy's name is Charles Borden. He's in charge of a little no name operation called, The Agency. They do a lot of good counter terrorist work, but he's as bad as the people they're putting away. He's had people killed, tortured and maimed for life to get his top people under his thumb. Fawkes passed me this information. I think that he just wants to do his job without having to answer to Borden. I know that all of you," Hannibal said pointing his cigar at the SGC group, "Have high enough clearance to see this. You two," he pointed at Jim and Blair, "Are damned good cops and won't leave them hanging if you can help it."

Neither Blair nor Jim disputed with Hannibal's observation. "Fawkes told me that Hobbes doesn't want to be a Sentinel," Jim said, "Working for this guy I can understand why."

"Hobbes psychiatrist brought him in right?" Janet wanted to know. Jack passed the folder around. The file wasn't complete, other than the information on one Doctor Clair Keeply. Borden was blackmailing her with information that she had participated in unauthorized medical experimentation with her lover, experimentation that had led to severe and permanent physical disabilities as well as mental illnesses. She had been a minor assistant in these experiments, but as she was the only one left alive or unharmed, Borden was using her as the scapegoat. The experiments had been done at his orders. Keeply hadn't known they were unauthorized.

"Yes he did and there's something a bit off there too," Blair said, as he pulled the file towards himself. "He gave me his file on Hobbes and I figured out pretty fast that it was incomplete. There are far too few references to his cases. Any law enforcement officer that regularly sees a psychiatrist is going to talk about his case load. It's the primary reason for needing therapy in the first place." This wasn't something that any of them were going to turn away from.

Chapter Twelve

There was a strange sense of connection among the four Sentinels who were at the gathering the next morning. Officially Vin and Jim were supposed to be giving Murdock and Jack an overview of daily life as a Sentinel. Unofficially, everyone save Blair, Hobbes, and Dr. Beekum, were gathered in the dining room going over the documents that Darien had managed to copy or steal. An almost palatable air of anger hung over the group as they passed around the papers printed out from the disk and the documents Darien had given them.

"It's a con. Beekum doesn't know he isn't authorized to hear the classified portions of Hobbes' life," Face said. He was going over the information on that situation. "He thinks that Hobbes just isn't ready to talk about his work. He doesn't know that there is no way the man will talk without seeing signed authorization."

"I agree. I believe that the good doctor is of the opinion that anything Agent Hobbes refuses to tell him is not due to being classified, but rather is related to his mental illness," Ezra offered his opinion. "It's the perfect con. Any information that deviates from what the doctor has been told is automatically discounted. Agent Hobbes, not realizing this, is performing his duty to the best of his ability in keeping the classified information that he possesses to himself. He is also doing his utmost to heal what he believes to be his fractured mind. I have found that Agent Hobbes regularly checks out psychiatry books from his local library and works in other ways to improve himself as well as taking his psychiatrist's recommendations as seriously as anyone could wish."

"Makes sense," Murdock said. "Borden doesn't want Hobbes to get better. As long as he can keep Hobbes thinking that he's nuts, and that Borden is the only guy who will keep him in the field, Borden has an agent who will do almost anything to keep on his good side."

"That fits his pattern," Josiah rumbled. "He sets people up so that they have to either obey him blindly or are forced into obeying him because the consequences of disobedience are far worse than anything he asks of them. He sees himself as a benevolent man who does what he does only in service to his country."

"Run into a few of those before," Jack growled. He was on a secure satellite phone with one of his contacts. He figured that he would be able to find out who Borden's bosses were, but it would take several hours.

"You're not the only one," Chris growled back. He too was on a secure phone; only he was busy tracking down who was holding onto Dr. Keeply's immigration papers. One of Borden's threats against Dr. Keeply was to have her deported back to England as a criminal.

"The Official never talks about his bosses. I mean I know that he has to have someone over him, but he acts like he's the top dog. The only time I've ever heard him say anything even vaguely about who he answers to is complaints about our budget." Darien sighed as he rubbed his head. He would have to go invisible soon and he did not want to have to do that anywhere near these people. With his luck the Sentinels would be able to sense him and that would create too many problems.

"Of course he doesn't. If he admitted that there was someone over him you would have access to someone who might possibly be on your side. He can't let you, or anyone who works under him have that recourse." The tone in Daniel's voice was utter disgust. "He has to be the ultimate authority or he loses all of his power over you."

Janet and Nathan both snorted. As medical professionals the very idea of any one person having ultimate authority over anyone was laughable. They dealt with the reality of that everyday when they tried to save a life. More than once they had both had patients who should have survived seemingly minor injuries die, while patients who should have died from life threatening ones made full recoveries. "Everything you've given us on Doctor Keeply's situation is easily dealt with," Janet continued. "I can have a formal hearing for her arranged within six hours. It will be official and I doubt it will take more than an hour to clear her of any and all charges. Most of that time will be going over the evidence, all of which says that she wasn't in a position to doubt the legality of the procedures she performed or the experiments themselves."

Darien nodded. "The Keep's a great doctor and she knew that I had volunteered for the experiment. I'm sure that she didn't know why I had volunteered before everything went down the tubes with the procedure. She had no reason to ask why until long after everything went bad for both of us." He stopped rubbing the back of his neck and started running his fingers over the snake tattoo on his wrist. His leg started jiggling too. He really needed to get out of here so he could let the quicksilver out.

No one commented on Darien's fidgeting. With everything that was at stake, they understood his nervousness. "Are you sure that you just want Borden removed from his post?" Jim asked gently. "I may not be able to arrest him, but I'm sure that Jack could find a way to have him punished somehow."

"And it'll even be legal," Carter smiled evilly. There were things that they at the SGC could do to certain intelligence operatives, like send them off world to a certain prison planet. There was no way that man could ever escape from planet Hell.

"No, I just want him out and someone decent in," Darien said firmly. "Bobby needs to do work like this. He's damned good at it, but I can't risk him being known as a Sentinel if the Official is in charge. There's no telling what he'll do if he finds out Bobby isn't crazy. Clair won't stop working until she finds a cure for what went wrong with the procedure that they did on me and she helped with. She feels horrible about that. It's not her fault, the experiment was sabotaged, but she'd rather work herself to death trying to fix it than walk away from it," Darien sighed, "Me." he admitted.

"What about Eberts?" JD asked, trying to shift attention away from the subject of the experimental procedure. There wasn't any real information on what had happened to Darien in the files they had, but there was evidence about the rest of the failures. One man had lost every sense other than touch. Another man had lost his mind permanently and was now dead. A third was out wandering around somewhere with some sort of physical deformity. What exactly that deformity was wasn't described in any detail but the efforts of the man to kill anyone associated with the project were. It took a great deal to drive a man to that extreme. JD wasn't sure that he wanted to know what had happened to Darien. He did know that there was no way he wouldn't help anyone caught under the Official's thumb.

Darien shrugged. "As far as I know, the little weasel is happy as the Official's lap dog, but knowing what I do about how the Official operates? He could be a willing participant or he could have a set of chains like the rest of us. I don't know. Eberts could go either way."

JD nodded and printed out a paper before passing it around. "Eberts was an accountant with the IRS. Apparently he's something of a fanatic about the profession and he's also very good at it. Borden had his books fixed. Eberts was fired, had his license revoked and now works strictly for Borden as his assistant. From the timeline, I'd guess that Eberts was approached right after he was thrown out."

"One more victim," Vin growled.

Darien stood up. He had to quicksilver. "I'm going to go check on Bobby." He left the group still hard at work and went outside. He made sure that he was well away from the main building and had more than a small group of trees between him and anyone who might be looking before stopping. He checked one more time before thinking that special twist of mental command that released the quicksilver. He no longer shivered when the quicksilver oozed over him, covering him completely. In fact, he now felt more comfortable than ever.

He walked down the trail to the small lake, taking his time. There was no need to worry about Bobby sensing him as his partner was very much aware that Darien had to go invisible from time to time. It wasn't actually all that bad, seeing the world from behind quicksilver frosted eyes. If it wasn't for the quicksilver madness, he really wouldn't have a problem with the situation. In fact, aside from that, he really enjoyed his life now. He liked being one of the good guys.

He found Blair, Bobby and Dr. Beekum sitting on the dock. He assumed that they were doing some sort of test, although he had no idea what it could be. Walking around he stood right behind Dr. Beekum, close enough to make him shiver. Quicksilver was cold. In fact the few times that he had been forced to cover Bobby with the stuff, Bobby had sworn up and down that he needed to check himself for frostbite.

Bobby was nervous, but doing his best not to show it. Dr. Sandburg was being very gentle with him, a situation he found both comforting and unnerving. Doctors weren't supposed to encourage mental patients in their delusions. On the other hand, everyone had been telling him that this man had found scientific proof that some people with delusions similar to his weren't actually crazy. If he wasn't crazy and he passed these tests, then he was a Sentinel, a Sentinel under the command of a man who would not hesitate to use him in ways that he did not want to contemplate.

The good news was that if he was a Sentinel, and he could get free of the Fat Man, then he could very easily go back to the FBI. He was sure that his old bosses would be falling all over themselves to get their hands on an agent with those kinds of abilities. It was a heady kind of fantasy, imagining all of those who dismissed him as a crazy flake who had no business being out in the field falling down on their knees begging him to come back. That in itself was enough to get him to go along with the tests, not that they were all that hard. Right now he was telling Doctor Sandburg how many of the colored sticks he could see across the lake. Each one of the brightly colored markers was planted in a line from the far shore all the way up the hillside in carefully measured increments.

Blair nodded as Hobbes called out each marker and wrote the results down in his file. "Well Agent Hobbes you passed, although I wouldn't call it with flying colors. My guess is that traces of your medications and your natural inhibitions are limiting your responses right now. Time and practice will change that."

Hobbes shivered as a very familiar icy touch registered on the back of his neck. Fawkes was here and letting him know. "What about my mental stability?' he asked.

"Why don't you tell me about your last case with the FBI?" Blair asked. "I figure that everything has gone to trial by now so you can tell me whatever you want to about it." Hobbes sighed and looked nervously over at Dr. Beekum. "Don't worry about Dr. Beekum. The case is no longer classified, which means that we can both hear whatever it is you want to tell us. Remember, he's more concerned about your health than anything else."

Blair didn't bother to mention the precautions that two of the detectives from Major Crimes were taking to make certain that Dr. Beekum couldn't contact Borden after he left the Center. Robert didn't need to know what was going on just yet in that area. Hobbes finally nodded and began talking.

Chapter 13

As they had expected, it had taken time, but eventually they tracked down the information that they needed. The Agency was an offshoot of the same organization that had, in time, spawned the NID. Once Jack had that, it was easy for him to track down Borden's bosses. The hard part had been convincing them to come to Cascade. Fortunately Jack was well known as someone who didn't joke around about certain subjects.

The ten men and women who gathered at the Cascade Warick Hotel were a powerful group. Not only did they all serve on various subcommittees, they allocated the funds for more than one top secret group. The Agency that Hobbes and Fawkes worked for was only one of them. These people were a hardened group, but one that also didn't tolerate criminal activities that could be traced back to them. They were going to be more than willing to let Borden fry for his crimes.

"You are certain of these allegations?" the spokesman for the group asked. The documents that were being passed around covered more crimes than the ones that Darien had been able to come up with. Between all of the different contacts that the group at the Sentinel and Guide Center had, they had found that Borden had done more than set up his top people. Murder, blackmail, suppression of evidence, assault, rape, Borden had ordered it done and all of it done not against terrorists, but against innocents that he used to further his own goals.

"We're certain," Hannibal said. He had been elected by the others to detail Borden's crimes. He had been dealing with groups like this for years. He knew just how to present the information so that these people were aware that they were not being accused of condoning Borden's actions and at the same time give them the scapegoat they needed to keep their own positions.

One of the women sighed, "Charles Borden was a big fish in a small pond. He was effective in keeping Chrysalis under control and changing from a small threat to a large one. Frankly with everything else that we deal with in keeping this country safe from terrorism and other threats, I for one, didn't feel that we needed to look any closer at his methods."

"Are his agents willing to continue working on the Chrysalis problem if we replace Borden?" another woman asked. "They do the real work in keeping that organization down to a minimal threat. The last thing we need is for Chrysalis to get out of hand. They could quickly escalate into something as serious as AlQuida."

"They merely wish for Borden to be removed and punished for his crimes ma'am," Hannibal said seriously. "They have no intention of abandoning their posts. Much like my men and I, they merely wish to have the threats against them removed so that they can continue their work without those threats hovering over them."

Jack knew these people. Some of them were on the committee that funded the Stargate program. He had also been dealing with small time despots and power struggles that spanned across solar systems for years. He had seen the calculating look that crossed over the spokesman's face before. He was about to dump this problem on someone else, probably more than one someone.

"Colonel O'Neill, can I count on your program's cooperation in dealing with Charles Borden's disposition?" the spokesman asked.

"Yes sir, I do believe that a suitable place of incarceration has already been selected should it be properly authorized," Jack said. He was not about to do anything with Borden without that. He had no doubt that it would turn around and bite him if these people thought that he owed them a favor.

The spokesman nodded, he hadn't thought that he would be able to catch the Colonel out that way, but it really didn't matter. Borden would no longer be a problem once he was deported off world. That only left the disposition of his operation. "Colonel Smith, you and your men have worked for years to clear your names of similarly false allegations. You have also done a lot of work helping other people with problems during that time using unusual methods. The Agency needs someone to run it with that sort of flexibility. Would you be interested in the position?"

Hannibal was a bit taken aback at the suggestion. He hadn't thought that they would offer Borden's place to him. He had thought that there was already someone ready to take over the job. It didn't, however take any time for him to make a decision. "I'd be more than willing sir, provided that I'm given a free hand and a slightly bigger budget. Limiting the budget to the minimum also limits our effectiveness." Unspoken was the knowledge that Smith was not one to blow his budgets on fancy gadgets. He and his men had survived for years by using every penny to its fullest potential. There was also the fact that giving him a free hand would allow them to continue to ignore The Agency. Should anyone try and take them to task for repeating the same situation that had allowed Borden to commit his crimes, they would be able to point out Smith's integrity.

"Good, then Colonel O'Neill I will make certain that Charles Borden is delivered to your base with full authorization for his disposition. Colonel Smith, I will have everything you need to take over The Agency to you within 24 hours. Good day gentlemen," he said dismissing them both.

"That won't be necessary sir," Jack said, stopping the dismissal. "A 'friend' of mine is ready to take Borden into custody as soon as I have the written orders. It's the safest way to ensure that Borden isn't given the chance to do something that any of us will regret later." The emphasis that he placed on friend wasn't lost on the man he was speaking to.

Knowing that O'Neill was most likely referring to the Asgard Supreme Commander Thor, the man had to acknowledge that it was the most efficient way to remove Borden. Thor would be able to transport Borden from his office to the SGC in a matter of seconds with the advanced technology at his disposal. "You'll have your authorization within the hour Colonel."

88888888888888888888888888888888

Blair had determined that Robert Hobbes wasn't crazy. His former fellow agents with the FBI really had been dirty. They had been caught three years after Hobbes had been fired. There was now no doubt that they had been planning on killing Hobbes but had ditched their plans when Hobbes had been fired for being crazy. There was no longer any need for Vin to help Ellison with the situation. That meant that Team Seven was free to return to Denver.

"I can't wait to get home," JD moaned. He missed Denver. He missed the weather, his job, his home computers and his girlfriend.

"Just a few more hours JD," Josiah promised.

Team Seven had already said goodbye to everyone they had met on this trip and were now waiting in the airport for their flight back to Denver to be called. Vin was reclining against the nearest large window, watching the rain mist down onto the concrete below. Ezra was in the chair closest to him, going over the Guide's Guide, a large notebook filled with information on Sentinel care and observations on behaviors. He was also watching Vin to make certain that Vin's claustrophobia wasn't getting the better of him.

JD and Josiah were sitting on either side of Nathan, who was clutching his first aid kit to his chest. Normally with their badges taking a first aid kit on board a plane wasn't a problem, but Nathan's kit wasn't standard. The large gym bag was filled with enough medical equipment and supplies to take care of almost anything short of a triple bypass surgery. People had tried to prevent him from taking it on planes as his carry on before. Between Ezra's silver tongue and Chris' glare no one had as yet succeeded, but Nathan was always fearful that this time someone would. With their luck it was inevitable that the one time he was without his kit would be the one time that it was desperately needed.

Chris and Buck were sitting opposite the others, making the second leg of the human wall that blocked access to Vin and Ezra. The team knew that their sharpshooter and Sentinel needed time to prepare for the flight. That preparation was best done without interference. "What do you think the Judge is going to say when we get back?" Buck asked quietly.

Chris snorted, "The same thing he always does and then he's going to turn around and use our arrest to boost the ATF's reputation. I'm just glad that he's the one who has to deal with the politics. Gimme somebody I can shoot any day."

"You can politic when you have to, Big Dog," Buck said with a grin, "Well, sorta anyway." He had to admit that although his oldest friend could play politics, he was best when decisive action was needed. Chris was not the sort of man who dealt well with compromise. That was best left in the Judge's hands.

Just then their flight was called. "All right ladies, it's time to go home," Chris called.

8888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888

Shelly went with Blair's suggestion and began testing everyone she could for Guide abilities, starting with Lieutenant Peck, Colonel Smith, Sergeant Baracas, and Agent Fawkes. Colonel Smith and Sergeant Baracas both tested negative as expected. Lieutenant Peck tested positive for Guide voice, also as expected. She was surprised however, to find that Agent Fawkes tested positive as well. From what she had seen Fawkes was so laid back she wouldn't have thought him capable of standing up to or for a Sentinel. Agent Hobbes set her straight on that assumption.

"Fawkes may be laid back but he's as stubborn as they come. He just doesn't do it loud unless, well, it's complicated. Let's just say that he doesn't have to get in my face or anyone else's." Shelly noted that Hobbes was standing rather protectively in front of Fawkes and that Fawkes was rubbing his wrist. It seemed to be a nervous gesture.

Noting that pushing any further was likely to provoke a BP response; Shelly nodded and brought out the new copies that she'd made of the Guide's Guide. That simple notebook had the only known single collection of information on how to Guide a Sentinel. It was also very much a work in progress. "While the best teacher is experience on how your particular Sentinel will react to any given situation, this is a basic primer on what to watch out for. While there are a great number of worksheets to help you find the causes of problems and successes, there is only one person who has spent any significant amount of time doing these. You are unfortunately the testing phase of what little we know about Guides."

"Which means that we should take nothing for granted," Daniel said as he started looking through the notebook.

Shelly shrugged. "What may work perfectly for one Sentinel may not work for another. We just don't know yet. The Sentinels that we have identified so far have already been trained in their native traditions. They are in the process of teaching their Guides. You gentlemen are the first to be put through the scientific process of data gathering. This entire field is brand new. I've only just figured out how to identify Guides, and even that needs to be tested further. Unfortunately, the only way to test that identification is to pair those identified with Sentinels."

"How do we know if someone you've picked out isn't a Guide?" Jack asked. He didn't want to have anyone else as a Guide other than Daniel. He started to make contingency plans to keep Daniel.

"That at least is the easiest test," Shelly said firmly. "Only a Guide can bring a Sentinel out of a zone just by talking. Anyone else who tries has to use brute force, usually pain or other overwhelming sensory stimulation. We will be doing that test to confirm each Guide's identification well before any of you leave at the end of your training next week. The reason that we do that here is because we have Guides that can bring the Sentinel out of the zone in case the Guide identification is wrong."

The three Guides sighed with relief while their Sentinels shifted restlessly. While the Guides were relieved that their Sentinels were protected by a definite test, the Sentinels weren't so happy with the idea that their Guides might not be Guides. Shelly was sure that the voice test was accurate though and that all the new Guides would pass with flying colors.

Janet looked down through the cafeteria windows at the group of Sentinels and Guides. "How are things going with Borden?" she asked Carter. They were alone as most everyone else was either taking a nap or out exploring the grounds.

Carter grinned as she scooped up another bite of her ice cream snack. "Sucker had no clue anything was happening until Thor beamed him up. The General didn't waste any time either. The minute Borden was beamed down in the embarkation room he had Walter dial up planet Hell. SG3 chucked the bastard through the 'Gate literally by the seat of his pants."

The two women sniggered at the mental image of Borden being flung through the Stargate by SG3's Marines. It was a fitting end for the man who had caused so much misery.

The End


End file.
